Staticity
by Romen
Summary: Claire likes being the precious princess, and Bender likes being the obnoxious rebel. Can they make it work, despite their pride and pressure from outside forces? Mostly Bender/Claire centric but will include other BC characters later.
1. The Princess and the Pauper

A/N: Just another What-happened-after-detention fic centered around John and Claire. The other BC members will get involved later, but probably not until chapter 5 or 6. Please review and let me know what you think! All reviews are appreciated!

Take care!

Romen~~

Chapter 1 – The Princess and the Pauper

Claire didn't know why she was there. She almost regretted it, but not completely, since it meant that she might be able to see him.

It all started when she'd had to take a detour on the way home. Damn road construction. The detour went through a rough part of town, or at least rougher than she was used to. At a stop sign, she rolled up her windows and locked her door. A man with a bottle wrapped up in a brown paper bag walked right past her car and stared at her. She looked away.

There were a lot of narrow streets without any signs. As more suspicious characters started to fill the sidewalks, Claire couldn't help but panic. She thought she was getting close to downtown but she couldn't be sure. And there were so many stop signs! She felt like a sitting duck on a conveyer belt as she waited behind the traffic until she finally reached the sign. It would have been so great if someone had invented a phone that you could carry around with you, because she would have called her dad.

Okay, from the look of the buildings she had reached downtown. They were stunted skyscrapers, wanna-be moderns. But she'd obviously never been in this section of the district before; she'd never seen anything covered with so much graffiti in her life. She reached another four-way stop and was about to pull through when it happened.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy stepped out in front of Claire. She slammed on her breaks and cursed. Then her heart froze. He glanced at her for a split second and gave her the finger, shaking out his shaggy brown hair. He was with a group of what appeared to be his friends; they began to follow him across the road. There was a lot of denim and leather, chains, and even a couple mohawks, one which was neon green. He suddenly stopped and turned, staring at her like he'd seen the living dead.

It was John Bender.

Claire wasn't sure whether she should wave, or pretend she didn't recognize him. She just stared right back, her mind a blank.

One of Bender's friends said something to him, and he turned slowly and nodded, following them across the street. He never looked back.

Claire felt her eyes sting. What a prick. No wonder she'd ignored John Bender for the last month.

Ohhh! It dawned on her. She'd ignored John Bender for the last month!

The car behind her honked. Claire shot forward and made a left turn. She parked on the side of the road. She needed to think.

She didn't have many classes with Bender, just chemistry. It was her first hour and she hadn't even known he was taking that course. He just showed up on the Monday after detention, walked into the room without looking at her, which was good, since her jaw was dropped unattractively.

"I thought you dropped this class," Mr. Grearson, the teacher, had remarked in awe.

"I picked it back up," Bender replied smoothly.

"I can't believe he's in this class!" her friend Monica hissed rather loudly, once Bender had taken a seat directly behind them. "I have math with him too. Does God hate me or something?"

"I don't know," Claire murmured uneasily. She felt jittery. She kept thinking of how he tasted like a mixture of nicotine and something musty and secret. And those same lips were so close to her now.

"Ugh, I think I can smell him." Monica covered her nose. "Don't you smell that? Disgusting."

She gave Bender a look of distaste before leaning closer to Claire.

"I hope I don't have to be his lab partner. That would suck, majorly."

Claire gulped, sensing that Monica expected a response. "It's not nice to talk about people," she said at last, realizing how stupid and juvenile that sounded. But she wanted to remain neutral, and she wanted this conversation to end, and she wanted to be back in the closet kissing John Bender.

"You're not stick up for him, are you Claire?" Stacie asked incredulously. "Don't you know who that is? That's John Bender. Don't you realize how much of a loser he is?"

It wasn't just Stacie who was asking her anymore. It was Tanya, Kate, Heather, Lisa, Shelby, Marie, Joanne, and the entire student body. She squirmed in her seat, like a light had been shone on her face in an interrogation room.

"Of course I do," she snapped at last. "What do you think I am, some kind of freak? I'm just saying you shouldn't waste your breath on him."

And then she laid her head down on her desk and bit her lip to hold back the tears.

Bender never showed up for chemistry again.

She would see him around school every so often, and quickly look in the other direction. It wasn't because she disliked him, but she knew he'd heard what she said in chem that day. She'd betrayed him, and everyone who had been in detention with her. When she looked at him, she felt sick with herself.

Claire tapped the dashboard with a manicured finger. She could see Bender, slowly receding as he walked down the street. Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and she wouldn't let herself ruin him with her self-pity. She started to pull out when her car stuttered and groaned.

And then it was dead silence.

Claire took the key out of the ignition, put it back in, turned it. Nothing. Not at sound. She repeated the process frantically until it was too apparent that her car had died. She laid her head on the steering wheel with a groan. Stuck in a seedy part of town, when it was starting to get dark…She hated her life.

Behind her closed eyelids, she saw John Bender's roguish smile, his burning brown eyes betraying his sarcasm.

And that's when she saw a gift in this situation, a chance to fix everything she'd screwed up for the last month. She leapt from the car and began to hurry down the street, her eyes fixed on Bender's crowd like they were tied to him.

They turned into a rundown building up ahead. As she drew nearer, she could make out the sign in the violet evening glow; "Ferguson's." Ooookay. She hesitated before pulling open the door and stepping through.

It took her a while to make anything out of the haze of smoke, but she soon discovered it was a pool hall, and a fairly popular one at that. The bar was filled and all of the pool tables were taken. A girl with a nose ring stared at her, and others quickly followed suit. Claire stuck out like a sore thumb. She began to walk forward, trying to ignore the attention she was attracting.

It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. Bender was at the farthest table with his friends, holding a pool stick and staring out the window, distracted.

The guy with the neon green mohawk nudged him in the side. "Hey, didn't you hear me, man? Your turn."

"Huh? Oh." Bender leaned forward, shooting impulsively and missing terribly. "Shit."

"You sure you're all right?" his friend asked again.

"Yeah, it's this music. Fucking Bon Jovi. I'm gonna go change it." Bender handed his stick to someone else and swaggered off to the juke box in the corner.

Claire took a deep breath, and began to walk toward him.

Bender was flipping through the selections aimlessly. The glaze in his eyes told her that he wasn't thinking about the music.

"Hey."

His head snapped in her direction. "You lost?" he said after a few dumbfounded seconds.

She blushed, remembering the last time she'd heard him say those words. "Sort of," she admitted.

They stood in an awkward silence. He resumed browsing through the music, his shoulders unnaturally stiff.

"So, um, do you come here often?" she asked at last, realizing how clichéd that sounded. She might as well have asked him about the weather.

"What do you want, Claire." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"I just want to talk to you," she said quietly.

"That's odd. Because I thought wasn't worth wasting your breath on." He annunciated each word clearly, refusing to face her.

"I didn't mean that…"

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Monica was just putting so much pressure on me, and –"

"And poor little Claire can't take a little pressure. Don't spin your sob stories to me; I don't want to hear them."

"I'm sorry I said it." There was a lump blocking her throat; she fought against it. "I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch this year, ignoring you…It's just that I feel so rotten."

"And you want me to make you feel better, is that it?"

"No! I mean, well, yes, but not like that –"

"So you want to turn over a new leaf."

"Yes."

"You're saying, that if your friends walked through that door, and saw you here talking to me, you'd tell them to suck it?"

"Yes." It was firmer than her last response. She knew it was true.

"Why?" He finally looked up at her again, his face too composed. His eyes had a beseeching, searching look, and she felt herself falling into them.

"John" – he squinted when she said his name – "you should know."

He was about to say something when his friend in the mohawk appeared.

"Your turn again, Bender. Well lookie what we got here! Princess at the pool hall."

Another friend appeared. He had greasy, ash blond hair and a busty brunette on his arm. "Nice skirt, Princess. You just come from tennis practice?"

Claire blushed. In fact, she had.

"Leave her alone guys," Bender mumbled, turning toward them without making eye contact.

The girl laughed; her voice was hard, like rocks tumbling over a cliff. "Whoa, defensive, Bender! You got a thing for the princess?"

"What are you even doin' here?" Mohawk glared at her. "The country club closed today?"

Someone else came up behind her and gave her skirt a tug. She whirled around. "Don't touch me!"

"Hear that? Too pristine to be touched."

"Probably ain't never been touched."

"You a cherry, Cherry?"

"Real cute, guys," Bender said over the uproar. "Now leave her alone."

"That's twice you stuck up for the Richie," Mohawk muttered, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You didn't invite her here, did you?"

"No –"

"He's sure acting like he would have wanted to." The brunette's eyes gleamed. "You screwing Red, Bender?"

"Maybe he just wants to."

Bender's jaw was clenched. He was focusing on a spot on the wall, wound and ready to snap.

"The Princess and the Pauper. Isn't it cute?"

"Come on, tell me you aren't digging Ginger here. I don't know if she's open for plowing."

Bender sprung. "Of course not! You think I'd touch that spoiled shit?"

Then they all laughed peals of relaxation and assurance – everyone except Bender, who was staring down at his combat boots and looked like he was about to be sick. He flicked his hair, avoiding Claire's gaze. That's when she saw the gleam in his ear.

Her arm flashed out like lightning; the smack rang out like thunder. "You fucking hypocrite!" she roared, and then spun on her heel, the sound of Bender's amused friends ringing in her ears.

She marched up to the bar tender, holding back the well of tears that was threatening to break lose. "Can I use your phone?"

He snorted. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Last time somebody used my phone they took off with some valuables. You're outta luck, Princess."

"Please, my car is broken down, I don't know anybody here…"

"Good luck with that."

"Can you at least tell me where I can find a pay phone?" she asked, her voice holding a tinge of nervous desperation.

He smiled sardonically. "Not one that works."

She stared at him in amazement before storming out of the pool hall. Once she was outside, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. She couldn't afford to panic.

She could try going in to other businesses and asking to use their phone. The brunette's sneer flashed across her mind. No, she couldn't go through that again. Well, she could walk around looking for a pay phone. No, it was getting too dark. The sky was a deep shade of navy blue; pretty soon it would be night. She decided to find a bus stop and talk to the bus driver. She had enough money to get home if she could just get some direction. She had never taken a bus before.

She started down the sidewalk with feigned determination. She pulled her jacket tighter; it was promising to be a cold night.

The streets weren't as bustling as they had been before. They were now oddly deserted. She passed what looked like a homeless man sitting on a bench. He had scraggly gray hair and his face looked like it was made of dried out play-dough.

"Got any spare change?" he croaked.

"No." She hurried on, her heart pounding and feeling guilty; she had ten bucks in quarters alone.

It seemed like she'd been walking for hours. She hadn't come across any bus stops. At least, she didn't think she had. It was getting darker and the street wasn't very well lit.

She heard the roar of an engine behind her. It grew quieter, crawling beside her. She tried not to look at the car that was obviously following her. She glanced at the building ahead; it was a bank, and it was closed.

"Need a ride?" a male voice called.

Don't look, just keep walking. She quickened her pace.

"You deaf, sweets? Want a ride?"

There was a cat call. Then the sound of a door opening. Oh shit. Claire turned to look behind her. Two guys she'd never seen before were staring straight at her.

"Leave me alone," she said in what she thought was a confident voice. When she'd taken a self-defense class, they'd told her confidence was key to ditching a predator. Also that you should smash the person's nose into their head.

"Aw, don't be that way, sweets." They were closing in on her; the taller one grinned cockily. "I just wanna talk."

They were backing her into the front of the bank's entrance. Damn, they were fast. As they approached her, she prepared to knee the short one in the balls.

"Hey, she's with me."

Claire thought maybe this was some sort of twisted nightmare, because that voice sounded a lot like Bender's, and Bender couldn't possibly be here. The two men turned around as Bender emerged from the darkness, his face unreadable.

"My apologies. We were just having a little fun."

"Go have your fun somewhere else," he said stiffly.

"You threatening me?"

Bender stepped up to him, an inch from his face. He was the same height as the other man, but much broader, and much more pissed. "I'll do more than that if I have to," he said gravely.

The other guy laughed. Then he pushed Bender's shoulder patronizingly, almost in disbelief.

Bender sprung on him like a lion. There was so much punching and shoving Claire had a hard time telling what was going on. She felt frozen. She watched as the short one jumped in, and somehow Bender was pinned on the wall and the tall one hit him in the stomach and she heard the steely flick of a knife.

The sound startled her into action. She lunged forward at the short one, kneed him where it hurts and started pounding him with her balled fists. Someone held her back, and she fought against them, watching as the two men backed away and ran off down the street.

"Claire. Claire!"

Bender's voice broke through and she grew still, her chest heaving. Then her knees grew limp and she felt herself falling backward, leaning against him.

"Whoa, Claire." He helped her to the ground and knelt beside her. "Claire, you okay? Claire?"

"Y-yes."

His face was outlined with cold fury. "Did they hurt you?"

She shook her head.

"Good," he said through clenched teeth. Then he closed his knife and she felt a wave of relief; it had been his.

"How did you get here in time?" she asked, feeling stronger.

He hesitated, something she wasn't used to seeing him do. "You really wanna know?"

She nodded.

"I followed you."

This should have been something that bothered her; instead, her chest felt warm and tingly. "Why?" she asked.

"I heard what you said…about your car being broken down. Girls like you don't walk alone in neighborhoods like this, Claire." He ran a hand through his hair and laughed uneasily. "Now I'm a stalker on top of being a pig."

"No...Thank you."

He stood and helped her up. "You okay to walk?"

"Yeah." She paused. "Where are your friends?"

He grinned. "Told 'em to suck it. You gotta go home…right now?"

Oh please let him ask her! Please please please! "No," she said as casually as she could, "I guess not."

"Me either." He swallowed. "You wanna go get something to eat?"

"Definitely."

Bender's face held more relief than he would have liked it to.

TBC


	2. Alarm Clock

A/N: Here's chapter two. Thanks for all of the reviews; they really brighten up my day (especially since I've gotten all nice ones so far, yay!). I hope everyone has a Happy Valentine's Day, and enjoys the new chapters!

Disclaimer: See previous chapter. I'm lazy like that.

Chapter Two – Alarm Clock

It was only in the light of the restaurant that Claire saw how much of a beating Bender had taken.

"John!" she gasped. "You have a black eye!"

"Don't forget the fat lip."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

He shrugged and looked down at the menu. "So what are you gonna get princess?"

"A salad."

"That's it?"

"Considering everything else on here either has meat or is filled with grease…yeah."

"Are you saying you don't eat meat?"

"Yep."

He gaped at her. "You're gonna die. Don't you need protein?"

"Vegetables and fish have protein."

"Doesn't fish count as meat?"

"Not really."

"It crawls around, it's alive…I'd say it's meat."

She rolled her eyes. "So what are you going to get?"

"I don't know, I'm not very hungry."

The waitress strolled up to them. Her name tag said she was Betty. "Are you two ready to order?"

"Just a salad," Claire replied. "And…a side order of fries."

Betty made a few notes. "And you sir?"

"I'll have a double cheeseburger, well done, with a large order of fries and a large strawberry milk shake." He handed over the menus. "And please, Betty, tell them no pickles."

Betty laughed and walked off.

Claire swirled the straw in her coke. "Not very hungry, huh?" she asked wryly. "So why haven't you been in chem lately?"

"I had better things to do." He leaned back against the booth and began unrolling his silverware. "Like sleeping."

"You should come back sometime."

"You miss me, princess?"

Bender was surprised at how much he longed to hear her say yes. He glanced up at her; her cheeks were still flaming. That was a good sign.

"You could say that," she said at last, grinning mischievously.

Bender fought back a smile. Butterflies were tumbling about his stomach. He'd never felt this way about a girl before. He'd never _let_ himself feel this way about a girl before. Why he'd let Claire get to him so much, he couldn't say. Maybe it was because he thought she would ignore him, like she had, and never speak to him again, which she had not.

"You know, you haven't been a jack ass all night," Claire wondered out loud. "Except…" She stopped and looked down, biting her lip.

Bender could have kicked himself. He'd been such a jerk. He deserved that slap she'd given him. It took a lot of guts, going up there and talking to him like that, guts that he had given up hoping Claire had. He still questioned her motives. But it didn't change the fact that he'd done to her exactly what she had done to him, and he knew how shitty that felt.

"What I said…I didn't mean it," he confessed.

He could tell she didn't believe him, but she didn't disagree. He clenched his fist and tried to convince himself it was good she didn't trust him, good that she wouldn't, and good that nothing would change after tonight. It was good that she would pretend he didn't exist the next day…

If it was good, why did it piss him off so much?

But it was good that he was pissed, because now he could pretend he hated Claire and stop feeling all warm and fuzzy like he had been.

"So," he began. "So. I hear you're going out with Jake Thompson."

"It's just a rumor. I mean, I did go out with him once, but nothing really happened."

There he went again, feeling all warm and fuzzy, like he belonged on Winnie the Pooh. He'd spent the last month doing everything he could to piss off Thompson. That same day Bender had pulled a chair out from under him. But it was only because Thompson was a stuck up dick; it had nothing to do with Claire. No. Nothing to do with the fact that Thompson could talk to her, put his arm around her, kiss her. And Claire had nothing to do with the fact that Bender was so relieved now.

But Bender couldn't help but admit that he'd been strangely possessive over something he didn't possess. Bender had been tripping with a friend in the back of the library, watching Claire study, when she'd bent down to pick up a pencil. His friend said something, he couldn't even remember it anymore, and Bender had let loose on him. The librarian had kicked him out for being too loud.

Then he had cussed out the librarian and earned himself another detention.

"So…are you seeing anyone?"Claire asked coolly.

He thought about messing with her, saying he was. But she knew him better than that. "Not really."

"Considering anyone?"

"I'm considering considering someone," he replied with a smirk, "but I consider all of them."

"Don't you ever get sick of that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you feel alone? All those girls, and equally close, or not close, to all of them."

"But that's the beauty of it."

He didn't get to explain it any further, because they were interrupted by Betty brining them their food. Bender suddenly realized that he wasn't hungry, he was starving, and he dug in ravenously.

He watched Claire pick at her salad. He wished he could have taken her somewhere nicer, instead of this two-bit diner.

"Where's your favorite place to eat?" he asked between bites.

"Yamato, definitely."

"Yama-what?"

"It's a Japanese restaurant."

"The sushi place?"

"Mhmm."

He shook his head, giving the impression that he considered her a lost cause.

"How about you, where do you like to eat?"

He grinned dreamily. "Buffets."

"But the food sits out there all day, and people breathe on it, and flies land on it…" Her nose wrinkled. "It's gross!"

"So what? You can eat as much as you want to for one price. They always bring out complimentary rolls, and they'll keep filling up the basket for free, too. We should have gone to a buffet."

She laughed. "No thanks."

"Whatever you say, Princess. But you're missing out."

They finished eating quickly, Claire because she hadn't ordered much to begin with, and Bender because he ate his fries three at a time. He sipped at his milkshake aimlessly, until it was three fourths of the way gone.

"You want the rest?" he offered.

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Come on Cherry, you only ate a whole piece of broccoli. At least share it with me."

She rolled her eyes and took her straw out of the coke glass. "All right."

"It's good, isn't it?"

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess."

When the glass was empty, Betty brought them the check. The amount made Bender's wallet hurt.

"I've got it," he said when he saw Claire reaching for her purse. It took all of the money he'd made last week, but he didn't mind.

"What now?"Claire asked when they stepped outside. She shivered in her short skirt. Bender liked that skirt.

"Dunno." He was sleepy. He wanted to stretch out on the couch, watch some crap TV, kiss Claire's neck slowly and indulgently…

"Where's your car?" he asked.

"Honestly…I don't think I remember anymore."

"You're something else, Cherry. Do you remember which direction you were coming from when you went to Ferguson's?"

"The same direction you were going in."

"All right. Let's head up that way and see if we can find it."

They were both silent, but it wasn't a strained silence. It was a comfortable, intimate quietude. Bender knew she was thinking about the pool hall; Claire knew that he was thinking about chemistry.

She spotted her gleaming BMW. "There it is!"

Bender's eyes were as wide as saucers. "This yours?"

"Well…my dad's. He's gonna kill me."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It won't start."

"Let me see the keys."

She handed them over obediently. Bender opened the front door, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. He grinned at her.

"You're outta gas."

"You're joking."

"I wish. That's classic, Claire. They always say rich girls are lacking in brains, but this…"

"Shut-up and give me my keys." She was trying not to smile. "It's not my fault I didn't notice, I had to drive around this creepy neighborhood…"

"Does your dad keep any gasoline in his trunk?"

"I don't know why he would."

Bender took the keys from her again and went to check. "You're in luck!" he called.

Claire felt like dancing. "He has gasoline?"

"I think so." Bender came back around with a jug in his hand. He opened it and sniffed. "Yep. He does."

He opened the cap on the side of the car and began to pour the gas in. Claire watched and had an inexplicable urge to wrap her arms around him. She opened the door and sat down in the driver's seat, trying to get a hold of herself.

Bender appeared at the open door and tossed the keys back to her. "You should be good to go."

"Yeah, I should probably get going. My parents are going to wonder where I am." She said this not for his benefit, but so that she could convince herself it was true. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"

"Nah." He thrust his hands in his pockets. "I don't have anywhere I need to be."

Claire hesitated. "John, I have no idea where I am. Do you think you could come along with me, just to help me get out of this place?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do."

Claire felt a small thrill while he went around the side of the car and climbed into the passenger's seat. Although they had been physically closer that night, there was something more personal about being with him in the enclosed space of the car.

"Well?" she asked when he was beside her. "Where to?"

(Space)

"This music is shit."

"Then change the station."

He did. "This music is shit too."

"What, you don't like Dead or Alive?" she teased.

"That guy's prettier than you, Claire."

Claire's heart pattered. Had he just called her pretty?

She hadn't driven straight home. Instead, they had pulled up in Shermer High's back parking lot, and were sitting with the car partially on so that they could listen to the radio. She could see the bleachers glimmer in the silver light of the moon. It was eerie, but she was still glad to be there.

Bender had his seat leaning all the way back, his feet on the dashboard. Despite her complaints, he was smoking. He was the perfect picture of relaxation.

"Let's play a game," Claire said suddenly.

"What game?"

"Truth or dare."

"What are we, in kindergarten?"

She giggled. "So…truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you…" She paused, trying to think of something clever. "I dare you to come to chemistry tomorrow."

He chuckled. "That was real creative Claire."

"Well, let's see if you can do any better. And keep it PG."

"All right. Truth or dare."

"Truth."

He took a drag. "Who was your first kiss?"

"A guy from camp in seventh grade."

Bender gazed at her thoughtfully. "Who?"

"You already had your turn," she reminded him. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"No."

She tilted her head, taken aback. "Never?"

"Never." He flicked ash out the window. "I've said I was a couple times though. Now, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to…" He grinned devilishly.

"Be nice, please?" Claire begged, slightly nervous.

"Oh, all right," he groaned. "I dare you to stay out until three o' clock tonight."

"As long as you promise to be at chemistry tomorrow."

"I'll be there."

"Okay…truth or dare?"

"I don't know…Dare."

"I dare you to kiss the girl that you've considered considering."

He sat up. "That's not fair."

"How's it not fair?"

"What if she doesn't want to be kissed?"

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

"Yes," he said angrily. "All right, I will. But I'm not gonna tell you when."

"That's cheating!"

"No it's not. You didn't specify a time frame. So, truth or dare?"

She glared at him. "Truth."

"Did you like Andy?"

"What?" she exclaimed, unsure if she'd heard right.

"Did you like Andy?"

"Andy Clark? What do you mean?"

"Did you like Andy," he said slowly, "during detention?"

"Well…maybe a little. Like just to flirt with. But not really. So, truth or dare?" she asked before he could say anything.

"Truth."

"Why did you want to know if I liked Andy?"

"Because…This music is shit," he mumbled, leaning forward to mess with the radio. "Michael Jackson?"

"John, don't change the subject."

He scowled at her. "Because…Because I thought maybe you did."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"I didn't want you to like him, okay?" He leaned against the door, his face drawn into adorable agitation. "Does that answer the question?"

"Yes." The corners of her lips twitched.

"Okay Cherry. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," she decided, since his questions were getting a little too close for comfort.

"I dare you to go up to the bleachers with me."

She laughed. "Easy enough."

(Space)

She shivered beside him. They had climbed to the highest level of the bleachers. Claire was surprised she could see the stars so clearly.

"Here." Bender slid out of his trench coat and spread it out over her. "Wouldn't want to take you to the hospital for hypothermia."

"Thanks." She made sure he wasn't looking, then held the coat close to her nose and inhaled. Nicotine and the same unknown intimacy.

"Truth or dare, John?" she asked when they'd sat together in silence for a few minutes.

"Are we _still_ playing that?" he whined. "Truth, I guess."

"Do you come out here a lot at night?"

"Yeah. It's quiet. Close to my house, too." He tugged at his gloves.

Claire could only imagine what it was like to live in his house.

"Choose a card, Cherry."

"Ummm…Truth."

"When you date a guy, what's the one quality he has to have?"

"I don't know…I guess, he needs to accept me for me."

"That's interesting."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your friends don't accept you for who you are, do they?"

She fell silent and leaned her head against the bleachers. "No…I guess they don't."

The next turns were all truths, innocent questions that didn't invade anyone's comfort zone. What's your favorite color? When's your birthday? What's your middle name? What would you do with a million dollars? Time passed quickly, they watched the stars twinkle and shift positions.

Somehow Claire's head was on Bender's shoulder. She yawned. "What time is it?"

"Two fifty."

"I haven't stayed up this late in months."

"You've been missing out."

"So Bender. Truth?"

"Yeah."

"Who's that girl you've considered considering?"

He let out a deep breath. "You want the truth?"

She nodded.

"She doesn't exist. I don't consider her at all…because I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't consider her for anything. Not even for consideration. She's…She's fucking perfect and then I'm…" He stretched his legs out with a sigh. "Truth or dare, Claire."

"Truth."

"Why are you still out here?"

"I want to be. I don't want to go home. And…I want to be with you."

She felt him stiffen.

"Truth," he said, without waiting to be asked.

"Why do you still wear that earring?"

His hand went to the diamond stud instinctively. "Because you gave it to me."

"Dare," she whispered.

He cracked his knuckles. She could almost hear his frustration, or tension. Maybe it was anticipation.

"Don't you forget about me," he said at last, his voice soft and tender.

She sat up. "John, you know I couldn't, even if I tried."

"Damn it Claire," he growled. "Don't say shit like that."

"I mean it, John. You know that, don't you?"

"You mean, that if I walked by you, you'd call my name?"

"Yes."

"You'd walk away."

"No, I wouldn't."

He leaned close to her. His hair swung down and tickled her nose. She felt his breath on her cheek. He opened his mouth, in preparation to do what she could only hope he would. Her breathing sped as he leaned closer to her ear.

"It's three o' clock."


	3. Truth or Dare

A/N: I apologize for the wait. Once again, thank you for the reviews! They are a joy to me. I hope that everyone is doing well and had a good weekend.

Chapter Three – Truth or Dare

Claire felt like a zombie. Correction, she felt like a zombie whose head had been run over by a truck.

She must have gotten a total of two hours of sleep last night. Bender had never kissed her like she'd hoped, and almost expected. He'd said something about it being three o' clock, how he needed sleep if he was going to get up and go to chemistry the next day. Claire could take a hint. He wasn't really interested. He must have just been messing around with her like he messed around with all of his other girls. She'd stormed off to her car and sped home to face her shocked and furious parents. Her mom promptly grounded her for a week, her dad promptly ungrounded her, and they promptly began to argue with each other.

She shuffled through the door to chemistry, yawning.

Monica gaped at her. "What happened to you?"

Claire wasn't exactly looking her "best". She had rolled out of bed in her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of purple and white polka dotted pants and a tight mint green t-shirt. Her hair wasn't as orderly as it usually was, her eyes were still puffy and the only make-up she'd put on was some eyeliner and a coat of pale pink lip gloss.

"Don't ask," she mumbled, and sat down at the desk beside her.

"I tried calling you like six times. Where were you?"

"Really. You don't want to know."

Claire didn't feel like being ridiculed by Monica this morning. As Monica told the woeful tales of Tanya's troubled love life she tried to get her papers in order. It suddenly donned on her that she done none of her homework last night. She laid her head down on the desk and said "Uh-huh" when Monica paused for response.

The first bell rang. That meant there was minute left before class officially started. She glanced around the room. Everyone else had already arrived, except for the one person she had hoped to see most, no matter how much he had hurt her pride.

"He's not coming," she sighed, resting her chin on her palm.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh…nobody. So what did Tanya do next?"

Claire watched the second hand twist around the clock. It seemed to taunt her by ticking jauntily.

Her heart drooped when the bell rang. But at that very moment, Bender skid into the room, bruised face and all.

"Mr. Bender." Mr. Grearson smirked. "Decided to show up today, I see."

Bender nodded, too out of breath to voice a come-back.

"You can take the empty seat beside Miss Standish."

Bender walked over obediently, plopping into the desk and leaning back like he was sitting in a lazy boy.

"I can't believe this. It looks like he fell down the stairs and his face hit every step," Monica scoffed in distaste.

Claire glanced over at him slowly. He'd taken a pencil out and was drawing on the desk – what, she couldn't tell.

"We're going to be doing a lab today," Mr. Grearson was saying. "I'm going to have you add various substances to tin foil, and identify whether a physical change or a chemical change is taking place. I've placed you in groups of three. Jason, Ivy, and Rick, you're together. Penny, Kelsey, Sarah…"

Claire felt her heart quicken with excitement. Please put me with Bender! she thought to herself. Please, please, please!

"Claire, Monica, and…" Claire hung on the edge of her seat as Mr. Grearson adjusted his glasses, "Jake, you're a group."

Jake had been trying to get Claire to go out with him again ever since their last date; she always claimed that she had "something else planned." He smiled at her hopefully. She could only manage a weak grimace.

"I guess that just leaves you, John." Grearson smiled at him benignly. "Had you been consistent in your attendance, I would have known to plan the groups differently."

"Like I give a shit," John grumbled. "You really think I wanna work with any of these clowns?"

"Like any of them wanna work with you," Monica mumbled acidly.

Mr. Grearson's eyes flashed over to her. "What was that Monica? You'd like to work with John? Well then why don't you. I'm sure Jake and Claire can manage on their own."

Monica's jaw clenched. "Yes, Mr. Grearson."

Mr. Grearson turned away to begin a demonstration at his desk. Bender was drawing on his desk with such fervor that his pencil broke. Claire heard him swear under his breath. She snuck a look at him again. He was glaring at Jake, his brows drawn in frustration. She hesitated, then inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Grearson?"

He paused. "Yes, Claire?"

"I'd be perfectly happy to work with John."

The statement hung in the air, like she'd taken a can of paint and sloshed it over their heads. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jake's betrayed gaze and Monica's grateful smile. She didn't dare look at Bender.

"Very well then. Monica, you and Jake can work together."

Claire felt electric. She didn't pay attention to a single second of the demonstration. She didn't move until a pair of goggles was set down on her desk.

"He said we'll need these," Bender mumbled. "He wants us to look like retards."

Claire smiled and put them on. They followed the rest of the class into the lab.

"Do you know what we're supposed to be doing?" she asked John.

"No clue." He seemed nervous. "Why is the faucet so far away from the sink?"

"John, that's not the faucet, it's the –" He turned it all the way before she could say anything. A jet of blue flame roared straight up. He flipped it back.

"Burner," she finished awkwardly.

He looked funny in his glasses, like a nutty professor. She fought back laughter.

"Is there a procedure sheet anywhere?"

"I don't know…" He glanced at the handouts. "Is there usually?"

"Hey, our burner isn't working, we're gonna have to share tables," Monica interrupted, strolling over with Jake. "Have you guys started yet?"

Claire shook her head. "I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing."

"Oh, don't worry Claire, I'll help you," Jake offered eagerly, coming over to her side of the table. "See, what you need to do is fill the beaker with 10 mL of water…" He reached his arm around Claire's shoulder to take hold of the beaker. The funny thing is, he didn't move his arm after that. He just stood there, explaining the next steps.

"Hey," Bender interjected, leaning on the table, "Jakey. You know what direction you're standing?"

"I don't know…up?"

"That's what I thought. Your face looks like you have a serious case of the upside downs."

Claire snorted and turned her head away, earning a glare from Monica.

"What is your problem, man?" Jake demanded. "I'm sick of you trying to mess with me. Why don't you just be a man and come out and say what's pissing you off?"

"You're what's pissing me off, you presumptuous ass hole."

Claire was impressed that Bender knew what presumptuous meant.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And get your arm off Cherry. You know she can't stand it."

"Hey, leave Claire out of this."

"I can bring whatever I want into this."

"This" was starting to get ugly. Claire tucked a strand of hair behind her ear anxiously. "We should really get started on the experiment," she began.

"You're right, Claire," Jake agreed. "We shouldn't bother listening to a waste of space like him anyway."

Claire felt her cheeks flame. "John is _not _a waste of space," she snapped.

Monica frowned. "Are you feeling all right, Claire?"

"Never felt better."

"But…you just stuck up for…John Bender," she exclaimed, as if he wasn't standing right beside her.

"Yeah, and what do you care?"

"It's John Bender!"

Claire looked straight at Bender. "That's exactly why I said it."

Jake rolled his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I understand full well what I'm saying; maybe you're the one who doesn't. Now let's get this assignment over with."

"Claire, where were you last night?" Monica asked slowly.

This was where it would get hard. She saw John lean back against the counter, his face wiped clean as a slate. He concentrated on the clock, his hands balled into fists.

"I was running around," Claire said firmly, "with John."

"What?!" Monica, Jake, and John cried; the first two because they were horrified; John, because he hadn't expected her to tell the truth.

"Did he…Did he…" Monica's mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"You slut," Jake breathed, dumbstruck.

Bender was around the table before she could snap her fingers. "Don't you dare call her that," he hissed, "or I will pound your pretty face into mush."

Jake said something smart in response, John shoved him, Jake shoved back. Claire felt like the world was spinning ten times faster than it should be.

"What's going on here?"

"Mind your own damn business!" she shouted without turning around. Then she froze and pitted slowly on her heel.

Mr. Grearson was staring at her, shocked.

"I- I mean," she stammered.

"I am disappointed in you, Claire. I would have thought you had more respect for others. Get out of my class. Go see Mr. Vernon."

"Yes, Mr. Grearson."

She shuffled from the room, wishing she could crawl under a rock.

(Space)

Claire wanted to skip lunch, but she knew she couldn't. Not if she wanted to be able to face them all on Monday.

She took a seat by herself in the corner. She could have tried to find Andy and Allison, but they usually left campus. Brian, whom she had maintained contact with by claiming that he was tutoring her, was attending a lecture for his AP Physics Class. And her "friends" were shooting her glares and whispering.

She could not let them know how much she wanted to cry right now.

She forced herself to sit at the table for fifteen minutes. She ate a few crackers and half of an apple, then threw the rest away. She was too stressed to really eat anything. She left the lunchroom as inconspicuously as she could, unsure of where she was headed. She just couldn't stand watching the gossip anymore.

She headed out the backdoor and leaned against the brick wall. She usually never went out this way; it was where the "thugs" hung out. The rumors had been true. The kind of people she never associated with was spread out on the ground and on the few picnic tables. She recognized some of the people from the pool hall last night. They recognized her too.

"Hey princess," mohawk crowed, "miss me?"

Claire made a face and began to walk around the school quickly.

"Aw, don't go yet! We're just getting to know each other."

Just ignore them, she told herself. Pretend they're not there…

Claire felt someone grab her arm. She reeled around and tried to pull free. Before she could, his lips were on hers and she was like a flower that burst open and felt the sun on all its petals.

She pulled away reluctantly. Bender pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, "Truth or dare?"

TBC…


	4. Monday Monday

A/N: Sorry it's taken me a while. School has been a killer. Thankfully summer will arrive at the beginning of June, and I will have lots of free time for writing and such. Thanks again for all of the reviews! I love hearing your feedback, whether it's good or bad or both.

Hope everyone is having a good April!

Oh, and you should check out the song "Common People" by Pulp, because it's good, and it's reminiscent of Claire and Bender.

Haha. I'm such a BC nerd.

Ttfn!

Romen~

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

**Chapter Four**

**Monday Monday**

"Oh, check this one out!"

Bender peered over her shoulder. A chimpanzee was swinging from a faux tree limb, his floppy mouth spread in a comic grin.

Bender smirked. "Nice. Relative of yours?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Claire strolled forward, pausing to observe a few capuchin monkeys. "It smells in here," she observed, covering her nose with a manicured hand.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to call ahead and let the primate house know they should set out bushels of fresh flowers for her highness's arrival."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't ever stop, do you?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

She ignored him and went to gaze at a cluster of imprisoned orangutans. Okay, so maybe the zoo hadn't been the best idea for a date, but what else was a broke guy with a pristine girl supposed to do? Accompany her to the church social? Bender ran a hand through his hair and frowned; now that her back was turned, he didn't care if his frustration showed. This dating thing was a hassle.

And he'd even taken precautions when he'd entered into the "relationship." They'd struck their business deal right after that kiss. They had left the picnic area in a silence that was as comfortable as it had been during the Ferguson incident, except this time it throbbed with expectation.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he'd asked.

She'd nodded, rosy cheeked and resilient.

"I'm no tiptoe through the tulips."

"Neither am I."

"What your friends said in class today…that's only gonna be the beginning."

"I know."

"You can handle it?"

"Can you?"

He shrugged. "My crowd'll get used to it. But yours?"

"I couldn't care less what they think."

"That's easy to say when we're back here, alone. But what about when your ladies in waiting see us walking down the hall together?"

"I thought that was never going to happen," she teased.

"If you don't want it to," he said solemnly, "it won't."

"What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't be hard to keep all of this, ya know…" He cocked his head to the side, and when she continued to stare at him dumbly he snapped, "Just between us?"

"You wouldn't be happy that way."

"Like that matters to you."

"It does. And besides, it's a little late for that anyway…cat's sorta out of the bag."

"It wouldn't be hard to patch it all up, you know, say you didn't know what you were thinking, or that you just wanted to slum it for a while…"

"You don't have to keep testing me like this John. I may have been a bitch for the past month, but that was only because I was stupid and afraid." She tossed her head back. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"You should be."

"Stop being so negative."

"So if people asked you if you were going out with anyone, you'd tell them I'm your boyfriend?" he asked scathingly.

"As long as you tell them I'm your girlfriend," she whispered.

"I'm not gonna be one of those one-month-anniversary types. If I bring you roses, they're gonna have thorns."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

"I'm an ass hole."

"That's true."

"So you've been forewarned."

"Just shut up and kiss me."

And that's how affairs were sealed between the princess and the criminal; with a kiss. A week's time found them here at the Chicago zoo. Bender still couldn't believe he'd done it, taken the plunge and committed to some snotty redhead whose deepest concern probably was, "Will Daddy cancel my credit card?"

But it was just an experiment. Bender was curious, wanted to test the waters on the other side. He'd drop Claire in a second flat if something better came along, and so far nothing had. At least that was the conclusion he came to.

Claire suddenly laughed. "Hey, this one looks like you."

Bender walked over solemnly, composing his face into an expression of sarcastic amusement. "I will admit he's a very attractive monkey."

"Probably has the same intelligence level too."

"Which is higher than yours, I'm sure."

"Dream on."

"If this is a dream, then I don't ever want to wake up," he said silkily, leaning so close to her that his hair brushed her cheek.

Claire gazed at him, her brow furrowed. "It'd be nice if you were serious once in a while," she said at last, and headed toward the next exhibit.

Bender didn't find it necessary to inform her that he was serious.

"Let's go look at the seals," Claire suggested after a tense silence. "It smells way too bad in here."

"Ah, fresh air!" she exclaimed as soon as they were outdoors again. "I hope my jacket doesn't smell like that place."

"It'd be an improvement."

Claire ignored him. "The weather's perfect too, sunny and warm. The last time I came here, it was raining."

"When was that?"

"My science class went on a field trip in seventh grade."

"Weren't you guys a little old for the zoo? Shouldn't you have gone somewhere boring like the courthouse?"

Claire giggled. "Who goes to the courthouse for a field trip?"

Bender had gone to the courthouse in seventh grade, but it wasn't for a field trip.

"Besides, it was our 'end of middle school' bash," she continued. "It's supposed to at least be sorta fun. Didn't your school do anything special for middle school graduation?"

Bender shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, but I was barred from participation."

"That sucks."

"Not really. I got to bum around town with my bud Gads and pick up chicks."

"At twelve?" Claire asked incredulously.

"When you got it princess, you got it," he explained innocently.

"What did you do, offer to take them down to the arcade to play Mrs. Pacman?"

"It still beats the zoo."

"We're at the zoo," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but we're the coolest people here, so it's different. Plus, I'm with –" His mouth clamped shut.

"Huh?" Claire prompted, the sharp inflection of that small word betraying eagerness.

"With the seals," he finished lamely. "We almost walked right past them."

"You're right!" She dashed over to the fence that encircled the pool and leaned against it. "They're my favorite animals, you know, besides pandas, and dogs, and kittens. And rabbits." Her cheeks reddened. "And maybe dogs."

"Aren't we selective." Bender rested against the railing and watched the rubbery creatures bask in the sun.

"Their lives have got to be so simple," he said after a moment's reflection. "Eat, sleep, swim, reproduce, and do it all over again. I wish my life were more like that."

"Except for the swimming part, isn't your life like that already?" Claire teased.

"Ha ha. So funny, Claire. You do know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah," she said softly, "I do."

They were quiet again, listening to snippets of conversation from passer-by and the barks of the seals. Bender slid his gaze ever so cautiously in Claire's direction. She was staring at the pool, the afternoon breeze tugging at her ruby hair. Claire wasn't the prettiest girl Bender was acquainted with, and she wasn't the most loose either, but he had never been this interested in anyone before in his life. It wasn't that she defied all of his previous stereotypes about girls – in fact, she seemed to confirm them; she always screamed at spiders and she'd cried when they went to see that sappy movie the other night. So why did he like being around her so much?

Okay, so sometimes she was unpredictable. He was pretty surprised she'd had the guts to tell her friends off in chemistry that day. And she was sorta sweet, except for when she was being a bitch. And funny at times, too.

But that didn't mean he liked her or anything. It was just an experiment. Right?

As he was pondering, Claire suddenly looked up at him. He scowled and turned away, frustrated for being caught watching her.

"When was the last time you came to the zoo, John?"

The one subject he had been hoping to avoid. Okay, maybe not "the one" but certainly one _of_ the subjects he was trying to avoid. He scratched the back of his neck. "Long time ago, don't really remember…You got the time?"

"Three o' clock," Claire informed him after glancing at her watch.

"Oh crap. I've got to get back to town."

"What for?"

"Just some stuff I've got to take care of," he replied vaguely.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Just stuff."

Claire was quiet as they left the zoo. Bender wasn't sure if she was angry or just thoughtful. He stole a glance at her when he was getting in the car, but couldn't read her face.

Girls were so pissy.

"Why don't you ever tell me about your life?" she asked ten minutes later, as he was pulling onto the highway.

"Because there's nothing to tell."

"Everyone has something to tell. Like, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Is that a real question or an example?"

"A real question."

"A younger brother. He's seven."

Claire smiled. "That's sweet."

"Sometimes, except for when he wakes me up at five in the morning."

"You were probably just as annoying as he is when you were his age."

Bender drew himself up, pretending to be affronted. "How dare you, Cherry. I was ten times worse."

"I'd believe it."

"You were probably the perfect little princess."

"I was a tom-boy."

"Really?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, yeah. I don't see Miss Fancy Frilly out there kicking around a soccer ball or anything."

"Neither did my mom, so when I turned twelve she threw me into ballet."

He grinned. "I can see you in a tutu and tights. Not too bad."

Claire rolled her eyes. "You are such a pig."

The rest of the ride was filled with their usual superficial banter, the kind Bender liked because it was nothing but time filler. He gave her a kiss in front of the house, and then drove off to take care of his stuff.

(Space)

"You actually cleaned this hunk o' junk?" Gads, the proud owner of the green mohawk, asked through a mouthful of fries.

"Yeah, so keep your greasy mits off of the seats."

"It smells like gardenias," Lawrence, a guy with shaggy blond hair, grumbled from the backseat.

Gads craned his neck to look at the backseat. "You know what gardenias smell like?"

"My mom wears perfume that smells like that," Lawrence snapped. "That's not the point Gads. You know what we came here to do."

"Oh. Oh, yeah." Gads turned to face Bender, his expression comically serious. "Jonathan, we need to have a talk."

Oh no. Bender knew what was coming. "About what?" he asked nonchalantly.

"About your sudden insanity."

"Not that you weren't already insane," Gads quipped.

Bender grinned; Gads could always be counted on to stop things from getting to serious. "Yeah, otherwise I wouldn't be hanging out with you creeps."

"That's not what we mean," Lawrence snapped. "We're talking about your thing for the richie."

"So what's the deal?"

Lawrence leaned forward, so that his face was directly next to Bender's. "She's a bitch!"

"So were all the other girls I hung with."

"Yeah, but you weren't all goo-goo ga-ga over them. I mean, she even got you to clean out this car. Don't even try telling me you felt like spring cleaning."

"And you get up and go to school on time, everyday."

"And you eat lunch with her."

"And you smell better. It's true," Gads swore in response to Bender's glare.

"The point is, Bender, she's got you whipped."

"I am not whipped," Bender snapped, clenching the steering wheel.

"Yeah, gardenia boy? Then who are you always sneaking off to call every night?"

"Oh Claire!" Gads lisped in a falsetto. "If only I were the receiver, so I could touch your lips!"

Bender could feel his face growing warm. "You guys tapping my phone calls now?"

"We don't need to; your sappiness speaks for itself."

"Is this an air freshener?" Gads shrieked, pulling the small pine tree from the review mirror.

"You just wish you could get a piece of her," Bender said dryly, tugging at his shirt collar.

Lawrence slumped back into his seat. "I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."

"I would," Gads interrupted. "With a five foot pole, with my hand, with my –"

"Shut-up, Gads." Lawrence scowled. "Look, Bender…We just don't want you to get hurt, man."

"Aren't you two sweet?" Bender simpered sarcastically. "What swell guys."

"I'm serious. Richies like to slum it every once in a while. Who's to say you're not just her little adventure in the gutter?"

"That's not how it is. She's just a girl I like to hang out with, that's all."

"So you're gonna break it off?"

Bender chewed the inside of his cheek. "Not right now," he said at last.

"But eventually? After you get her?"

Gads laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's what you do, right?"

"Like I said, not right now. She's…she's kinda cool."

"That's it. You're getting soft," Lawrence decided. "Well it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I am not getting soft! She's nothing to me."

He gunned past a stop sign without even glancing to see if anyone was coming from the other direction.

(Space)

Bender made it a point not to call Claire that night, or to meet her at her locker on Monday. Instead he spent the morning smoking doobies with Gads and Lawrence. He'd laughed like he had in the days when he was single, but now, as he was passing through the hallway, he realized he couldn't remember a thing they'd said to him. Either he was really high, or all of those "I wonder what Claire's doing right now?"-type of thoughts had distracted him.

"I'm just really high," he assured himself, earning a confused look from a preppy girl in front him.

He barely made it into chem before the last bell rang. He flopped down in the empty desk beside Claire without a sign of acknowledgement. Mr. Grearson was writing notes up on the board and Bender was just beginning to compliment himself on his excellent self-control when she hissed into his ear the last thing he had expected to hear;

"Are you okay?"

He could only answer with a bewildered stare.

"Your face," she mouthed, a hand circling her own cheek.

Oh shit. He'd forgotten about that. "I fell," he hissed.

"John Bender." Mr. Grearson turned around slowly, his arms crossed behind his back. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No thanks, I only brought enough for myself." This earned a few snickers which were quickly silenced by a glare from the teacher.

Mr. Grearson shut his eyes and began to massage his temples. "John, I think it's time that you changed seats."

Bender smiled coyly. "Someone checked their horoscope today didn't they, Mr. Grearson?"

"John, gather your things. You too, Jake. You'll be trading desks."

Shit. Bender fought back the impulse to throw his desk and gathered his "things", which consisted of a folder and a pencil. He made sure to bump Jake's shoulder as they passed. He sank into his new desk, stretching and yawning noisily just to piss off Monica, who had migrated after Bender and Claire had become official.

"These arrangements should be less distracting for the both of you. Now then…" Mr. Grearson raised his piece of chalk. "Let us resume the lesson."

Everyone else may have resumed the lesson, but Bender laid his head down on his desk. From this angle, under a ceaseless colonnade of arms, he could see Claire and Jake from across the room. They were both focused on the lesson. That was a good sign. Besides, Jake had been a total ass to Claire the last time they'd talked. Claire probably couldn't stand him now.

Wait. Bender had just been a total ass to Claire too.

It felt like an age before the bell rang. This time Bender didn't even pretend to ignore Claire when he saw her waiting outside the door.

"Well that blows," he declared, raising his voice so Jake heard him as he passed.

She rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it. But are you sure you're all right? I didn't hear from you all weekend."

"Yeah I was just…busy."

"Oh. Doing what?"

"Just stuff."

"Did that 'stuff' mess up your face?"

Bender's hand went to his cheek of its own free will, fingering the enflamed gash that resided in the center of a black and blue splotch. "Like I said, I tripped. I was stoned and being stupid."

"Why don't you tell me what really happened?"

"I already did."

"No, you didn't." Claire stopped in front of a water fountain, her eyes blazing. "Did he do that to you?"

"Who?" Bender asked, already anticipating the answer.

She chewed her lip hesitantly. "Your…father."

His head pounded. "You think my father did this to me?"

"After what you said in detention –"

"Forget what I said in detention. That was shit."

"No it wasn't! I know that --"

"You don't know shit about my life," he said slowly, his face an inch from hers, "and don't pretend that you do."

She stiffened, but instead of backing away like he had expected she took a step toward him. "Maybe I would if you weren't being so secretive all the time."

"Look, some things are my business and none of yours. Deal with it."

"So simple things like you going to hang out with friends are none of my business? I'm not entitled to know that?"

"Just because you happen to be entitled to everything else doesn't mean you can control my life."

"I'm not trying to control your life!"

"Then why do you want to know every little move I make?"

"Because I care about you!"

That statement caused his stomach to do an excited flip, but he attributed that to the weed. "Well…well this is me," he managed to say, "and if you don't like it then you can fuck off."

"Maybe I just will!" she retorted, and shoved past a group of spectators to storm down the hall.

Bender slammed his shoulder into a locker. Why did his father just _have _to be wearing that stupid class ring last night?

(Space)

Bender considered skipping gym, but decided against it. At least it would distract him.

Before the infamous detention, he'd always made it a point to arrive late. The jocks liked to mess with him, and unless Bender pulled his knife out he was usually too petrified to do anything about it. He'd learned back in seventh grade that if you couldn't meet violence with violence it was best to go AWOL. But now he had Andy and Brian on his side, the two people he had always used to avoid or torment. It made him look forward to second hour more than he liked to admit.

"Girls are crazy," he said the minute he'd slammed his gym locker shut.

"Yeah, but they're also incredibly hot," Andy reminded him. "You've got to take the good with the bad."

"Oh I'm taking plenty of the bad." Bender pulled the smelly Coors Light shirt that consisted of his gym uniform over his head. "Trust me."

"I'm not taking anything," Brian said sadly. "I tutor all the cheerleaders though."

"That's cool, Brian." Andy smiled, always giving his friends the emotional pat on the back they needed.

"Don't I have any privacy?" Bender exclaimed before Brian could reply. "Does she have to know what I'm doing all the time? 'I just want to know more about you,'" he whined in a falsetto. "Please. More like control my life."

"Um. Yeah." Brian cleared his throat. "We better get out there, the bell's gonna ring in…" He checked his watch. "…approximately forty-five seconds."

Brian and Andy chatted continuously as they entered the gym. Bender followed them, brooding. He couldn't tell who he was madder at – his dad for boxing him in the first place with that damn class ring on, Claire for butting into his business, or himself for being such an idiotic asshole.

"I just don't get her," he puffed as they warmed-up with the customary push-up routine. "I hang out with her all the time. How much more open can I get?"

"Is that what you two are arguing about?"

"Yeah. She thinks I'm being too 'secretive.'" The gym teacher turned away, and John rested on his elbows to catch his breath. He really had to cut down on the smoking. "Some things are just my business and nobody else's."

"Then tell her that," Andy advised.

"You think I didn't? I told her this was me, and if she didn't like it, she could fuck off."

Brian snorted.

"What's so funny, pipsqueak?" Bender demanded, shooting him a glare.

"Even I know better to say that to a girl who's mad at me."

"Well then what would you say?"

"Sorry?" Brian suggested.

Bender shook his head and resumed his pushups. "You're hopeless, kid."

"He's got a point though." Andy wasn't breathless at all; he went up and down like he was light as a feather, which clearly wasn't the case. "That's really an asshole thing to say."

"But it's the truth," Bender countered.

"Sometimes you have to be more open in relationships than you'd like to be." Andy shrugged mid-pushup. "That's the truth."

(Space)

"Hey Cherry."

Claire continued to pick at her jello. "Did you hear something?" she asked Allison, who shook her head loyally.

Bender lifted Allison's tray from the table and shoved it at her. "Could you excuse us?" As soon as she was gone he plopped down in her seat. He didn't say anything for a while, just picked at something under his nails. Eventually he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and popped it in his mouth.

"The last time I went to the zoo, before this weekend, was when I was seven," he began, his eyes focused on the graffiti covered tabletop. "My dad came with me. He was drunk. We weren't there very long. And yeah, maybe he did punch my lights out last night. Okay, he did. But I don't like talking about this shit, and I usually don't. So I'm new at this. And I'm…" He made a face. "Sorry. Okay? That's all I wanted to say."

"Okay," she said softly.

He jiggled his knee anxiously. He wasn't sure if he was happy they were reconciled or disappointed she wasn't more emotional. He took a drag from the cigarette and asked something he knew he would regret two hours from now.

"Wanna do some 'stuff' with me this weekend?"

She flashed him the first smile she'd given him since Friday afternoon. "Of course."

(Space)

"Isn't this a different car?"

John opened the van door, which felt like it would fall off in his hand. "Yeah, dad needed his so I had to bum this one off a friend," he explained. "Sorry for the smell."

"It's all right; I'll just roll the window down."

After fighting with the seatbelts they were on the road. It was still light out, although it was nearing 8 o' clock. Claire applied some lipstick in the side mirror before turning to Bender excitedly.

"So, where are we going?"

"I hope you're in the mood for head banging."

Her jaw dropped. "Oh no. You can't be serious. We're not going to one of those –"

"Heavy metal vomit concerts? Yes we are, princess. And you're gonna rock out."

"Only if I don't die first!"

"As long as you stay out of the mosh, you should be fine."

"The mosh?" she asked weakly, like he'd said "the bottomless pit".

Bender chuckled. "Trust me, you'll be all right."

"But my hair!"

"It won't look any worse."

"If I die tonight, I'm going to come back and haunt you."

Bender thought it wouldn't be so bad being haunted by Claire Standish.

(TBC)


	5. Oz

Chapter Five

Oz

The hall was dim and hazy, shrouded in smoke from cigarettes and something else. People lined the bar, people in leather, denim, chains, bandanas, boots, short skirts, short shirts, long shirts, with tattoos and piercings aplenty. Claire clung to Bender's arm, surveying the scene with trepidation.

He chuckled. "They're not going to eat you."

Claire was about to respond when something came flying into them from behind.

"Ain't you two cute?" Gads drawled in a faux southern accent, keeping Bender in a chokehold.

"My my." Lawrence took in Claire's petrified appearance. "We aren't in Kansas anymore, are we, Toto?"

Bender fought Gads off. "Real funny, guys. Now cut it out."

"You seen anybody else yet?"

Bender shook his head. "We just got here."

"Slowpokes." Lawrence heaved a sigh, as if lamenting the imperfection of human nature. "Very well. Let's go get a place by the stage."

"Nah, maybe later. You guys go ahead."

Gads and Lawrence both looked at Claire. "Oh," Lawrence said icily, "I see. I guess we can just stay back here then. I'm gonna go get some drinks."

"So you into metal, Cherry?" Gads asked as soon as Lawrence was gone.

She fiddled with the strap on her purse. "Um…not really."

"I figured Bender probably drug you along kicking and screaming."

"Minus the screaming," Bender corrected him, shooting Claire a grin.

Gads glanced at his watch, which looked like it had come from a toy store. "They should be starting any minute," he mumbled. "The equipment is all set, and-"

But he was unable to finish his sentence, because at that moment a curvaceous girl launched herself at him and gave him a very personal kiss. Bender ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Claire anxiously; she was as green as Gads's mohawk.

The girl detached herself and smiled. "Hey Gads."

"Hey Steph," Gads breathed, his face flushed.

Stephanie was busty, and proud of it. She wore a belly shirt that laced down the front. It was a tight squeeze, but not as tight as the leather skirt that ended in the middle of her thigh. Her spiked heels pitched her to a height of about 5'7", and her bodacious brown hair added a few inches. She was pretty in an exotic way, with thick streaks of kohl circling her hazel eyes, but there was something pinched and hard about her smile, like she resented its existence.

Her eyes revolved around to Bender and Claire, and the smile widened. "Hey Bender," she said in a sultry voice, "haven't seen you around in a while."

He smirked. "I've been busy."

"Doing what? Or, should I say, who?" She and Gads both chuckled.

Oh jeeze. Maybe it had been a bad idea to bring Claire after all. As if on cue, Stephanie asked, "Who's your friend?"

"I'm Claire," Claire said awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you, Stephanie."

"Oh, you're _the_ girl!" Stephanie looked her up and down like she was judging a cow. "That one richie Bender's lost his head about. People can't stop talking about you two."

"Oh," Claire said awkwardly, when Stephanie continued to stare at her.

Stephanie smirked, as if making a final judgment. "Well, I've got more people to see. Gads. Claire. Bender." She gave Bender a pointed looking before strolling away, her hip brushing against him.

Gads shook his head. "She's sure something."

"'Something' is right," Bender mumbled. He looked at Claire. "You want to sit down?"

"No, I'm good."

"Cool."

At that moment, what sounded like a groaning rhinoceros split the air. It was shortly followed by a squealing guitar rift and a manic drum. Immediately the crowd went wild. Gads flew down to the dance floor and threw himself into the mosh pit. The band hung on the edge of the stage, as motley as the crowd they were playing for.

"That's loud!" Claire shouted over the music, covering her ears.

"It's the shit!" Bender roared back.

"On what planet?"

"I come bearing gifts!" Lawrence set four beers on the rail in front of them. "Where'd Gads go?"

Claire pointed down to the pit with a grimace. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Yeah. People have died in the mosh."

She gasped. "That's crazy!"

"I know right? What an awesome way to go!" He thrust a beer at her. "I got you one too – didn't know if you drank or not."

"Oh, thanks." Claire sniffed the open bottle before taking a cautious sip. She made a face.

Lawrence grinned. "You ever drank before, Cherry?"

"I've had champagne and merlot."

"Shoulda known."

"What's that supposed to mean?" There was a note of defiant injury in her voice and the way she thrust her nose in the air.

Bender, who had been listening to the conversation, bent down to her ear and whispered, "You're porcelain, toots."

"I am not," she argued petulantly, and for proof she cocked her head back and gulped down half of her beer.

"See?" she croaked when she came up for air. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You're right, Cherry. You proved me wrong."

"I did?" she asked incredulously.

"Yep. You're tougher than I thought."

She grinned triumphantly. "I _told _you."

"Which is why I don't feel bad about doing this." And before she could say anything he'd grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her into the pit.

He dragged her though the outer groups of people; he didn't think she'd survive if he took her into the middle, but she should be all right away from the most violent action.

"JOHN!" Claire shrieked, and his chest tightened. He whirled around, worried that someone had elbowed her in the face, but she was smiling. Relieved, Bender returned the grin.

And so for the next four songs they danced, Bender in his own stomping, head banging way, Claire girly and tentative. Bender liked watching her dance, and he was pleased to see that the smile never left her face.

By song number five they were both losing steam, so Bender suggested they go hang with Lawrence for a while. Claire nodded breathlessly, and they fought their way back to the railing.

"Having fun?" Lawrence inquired tersely.

"Yeah, and you would have been too if you'd joined us," Bender retorted. He wished Gads would come back; Lawrence could get so moody.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom," Claire informed him quietly. "I'll be back."

"All right." Bender thought of offering to accompany her, but decided that might be open to misinterpretation.

"When are you going to bang her and get this over with?" Lawrence demanded as soon as she was out of earshot.

"You're just jealous that you're up here alone and bored."

"Maybe I am, but not because I'm bored, it's…"

"It's what?" Bender prompted, when Lawrence remained silent.

"It's nothing," Lawrence said softly, averting his eyes. "I'm gonna get some more drinks."

"No; what is it?"

But he was already gone.

Meanwhile, Claire was touching up her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. Despite her expectations, she was actually enjoying herself. She wondered what Monica would say if she knew she was here. For some reason, she really didn't care.

"You must be something."

Claire could see Stephanie in the mirror, leaning against an open stall. The brunette smirked and strolled over to stand beside her at the sink.

"For Bender to settle down, I mean," she continued, pressing the soap dispenser and beginning to wash her hands. "I don't think he's been with the same girl for longer than fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, well…" Claire struggled for words. This girl was rather intimidating. "So I've heard."

"Usually once a girl puts out, he gets out." Stephanie chuckled at her own little joke.

Claire smiled stiffly.

"When me and Bender were together –"

Claire's eyes widened. "You and Bender went out?"

"Well…I don't know if we really went anywhere, but we were together. If you know what I mean."

Claire knew all too well.

"He said he loved me and everything." Stephanie turned off the faucet with a shake of her head. "Was I ever naïve. Two weeks later he was doing Jillian Watts. You can never trust a thing he says. Gotta love him, though." Stephanie adjusted her bra strap and surveyed herself one last time in the mirror before turning her steely eyes on Claire. "See you around."

"Yeah," Claire managed to say.

She hoped she never saw Stephanie again.

(Space)

Claire's smile was a little stiff when she returned. Without acknowledging Bender, she grabbed the nearest beer on the railing and gulped it down.

"Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" she said, her voice slightly off-pitch. Before Bender could reply, Lawrence had returned with more drinks. Claire partook without comment.

Claire and Lawrence got on increasingly better terms the more they drank. Bender tried to follow their conversation, but it was nearly impossible. At one point he was certain they were talking about toasters. Oh well; at least they were getting along.

Suddenly she turned to Bender. "We should dance," she said seriously. "Do you want to dance?"

And the next thing he knew they were down in the pit. Claire had lost her previous timidity. Whereas before there had been at least a foot of space between them, her arms were now thrown about his neck and her hips rocked from side to side. He could see a sliver of white skin separating her shirt from her skirt. She head banged unblushingly. Bender had to admit she was pretty hot.

Until she collapsed in his arms.

(Space)

"Why did we have to leave so early?"

"Because you're drunk."

"No I'm not – ouch!"

Bender glanced over at her; she'd slammed the car door into her head.

"Where are we going now?" she inquired once they were both settled, patting her head gingerly.

"You're going home."

"Don't you want to go somewhere else?"

"Well sure, but not right now."

She was quiet for a moment. "You don't want to go places with me?"

"No, it's not that. It's just that pretty soon you're gonna feel like shit, and you'll want to be at home."

"But I feel fine!"

"I had to carry you to the car, Claire," he reminded her.

"That was very sweet of you," she acknowledged.

The drive to Claire's house wasn't a long one. She was half asleep when they pulled up outside. He shook her gently.

"Are we here?" She glanced at the window blearily. "Wanna come up for a while?"

He stared at the three story mansion. "I'm not sure your parents would be too thrilled with that."

"My dad's not home, and my mom's asleep," she mumbled. "Please?"

It didn't take much to convince him.

(Space)

They slipped through the door as quietly as they could, which wasn't very quietly, seeing as Claire immediately stumbled into the coat rack and started laughing. Bender shushed her, struggling not to chuckle himself. All of the lights were off. He put his arm around her shoulders to steady her as she led him up the stairs, and then up another flight of stairs. When they finally reached her room, he let out a deep breath. At least they hadn't broken anything.

Bender groped for the light switch, and suddenly a frilly, pastel retreat fit for a princess was illuminated. He helped Claire over to the humongous bed complete with a lacey canopy and at least six decorative pillows in the center of the room before surveying his new surroundings. There were two dressers and a door to what he assumed was probably a walk-in closet. Next to one of the dressers was a vanity littered with all kinds of jewelry and bottles. He walked over and began to fiddle with the perfume, but stopped when he saw what looked like a genuine ruby bracelet lying beside the earring tree.

He turned his attention to the walls. They were painted a pale shade of lavender. An impressionist painting of ballerinas hung beside white shelves, one row of which was filled with porcelain dolls.

"Still play with dollies?" he teased.

She blushed. "No. I was never allowed to play with those anyway. They're collectors."

"So you had toys that you never played with?" He shook his head. "The mind of the upper class is unfathomable."

He crossed to the other side of the room, pleased that her eyes followed him. He was about to make a crass remark about the Precious Moments figurine on her night stand but was arrested when he noticed an acoustic guitar in the window seat.

"That's a Bendetto!" he exclaimed, racing over like he was drawn by magnetic force. His hand reached out but stopped short of the neck. "I didn't know you played, Cherry."

"I don't," she admitted. "It's my brother's. He was over here last week."

"What I wouldn't give for a Bendetto…You have any idea what these things cost?"

"A lot?" she guessed. "Do you play?"

"I used to."

"Why'd you stop?"

"I had to hawk mine," he mumbled. "You can't really play when you don't have a guitar."

"You should play me something."

"Like what?"

She grinned and settled herself against a pile of pillows. "Anything."

"Okay." Now that he had permission, he snatched the guitar eagerly. His hand shook as he tuned it. He cleared his throat, even though he didn't plan on singing, and launched into "Fools Rush In."

Claire listened in silence. He stopped at the second verse, too embarrassed to go any further. He set the guitar down with the air of a priest lowering a holy relic.

"I haven't played in a long time," he mumbled apologetically.

"That was beautiful," Claire breathed.

Bender felt his face grow warm. He shrugged, for once in his life too bashful to say anything.

"You can have it if you want."

"Have what?"

"The guitar."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes I do."

"You're just drunk, Claire."

She'd held her liquor better than he'd anticipated. He'd been expecting her to hurl all the way from the bar. He wondered if she would have invited him to come up had she been sober.

Claire patted the empty space beside her. "Come here."

Bender flopped down on the bed obediently and propped himself up against the headboard. She wriggled over to him so that her head was beside his torso.

This wasn't like the other times Bender had been in bed with girls, and he found himself feeling awkward and confused. Thankfully he noticed a photo album sitting on the nightstand, and he snatched up the opportunity for a distraction.

"'Special Times with Special People'," he read aloud. "How special, Claire."

"Shut-up," she grumbled sleepily.

Bender flipped open the front cover. He was immediately assaulted by a stream of photos of a red haired girl with pigtails and braces.

"I take back what I said about your face," he said gravely. "I can see there's been a great deal of improvement over the years."

"What are you looking at?" She glanced at the page and groaned. "Oh, don't, those are terrible pictures!"

"You shouldn't leave them lying around for all to see then," he admonished, and continued his perusal. There were many pictures of young Claire. Young Claire with what he assumed to be her brother, a well made boy with hair the color of his sister's; young Claire with Mommy, a trim, faux-blonde (Bender could see her roots); young Claire with Daddy; young Claire with Grandpa and Grandma; young Claire in Paris (the Eifel tower was behind her); young Claire at the beach; young Claire at the Grand Canyon; young Claire with her little Valley friends. He didn't think he'd ever be away from young Claire when he turned the page to finally see Claire about the age she was now. She was standing next to a sandy-haired, blue-eyed boy. The next few pictures were of Claire with friends, more relatives, on more vacations, and then there was the sandy-haired boy. And there he was again. And again.

"Who's this?" Bender asked casually, passing over the album.

"Oh, that's just Zach."

"Who's Zach?"

"A friend. His family lives next door."

"He doesn't live with his family?"

"He goes to Yale."

"Ah."

Bender flipped to the next page. Here was Claire on her way to a school dance. She was wearing a puffy, pale green dress, and her hair, which was longer then, was pulled up into a bun. Bender had to admit, she looked good.

In the next picture she was standing in front of the door with Zach on her arm.

Bender tossed the album aside.

"Will you turn the light off?" Her request was muffled; she'd buried her face in a pillow.

"What am I, your butler?" he asked sarcastically, but he did so anyway. It took him a minute to find his way back to the bed, and when he did he was afraid he would accidentally sit on her, but he managed without incident.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem." Bender to the alarm clock; 10:16. He shifted awkwardly; his boots made a soft hiss over the silky comforter.

"Do you want me to go?" he whispered.

Her arm reached across his torso and her head was on his chest. "No; stay."

His heart gave a leap. He could hear Lawrence remonstrate.

"You_ never_ cuddle, Bender! It's your number one rule. You get in, you get out, you're done. When people start cuddling they get all sentimental and start believing in love and shit. And we both know that love is just an illusion people create so they can tolerate their crappy lives. Boy meets girl, boy and girl fuck. That's what's real."

Lawrence didn't know anything. Just because Bender was feeling all light and fluffy and ecstatic didn't mean that he was falling for Claire or anything. It just meant that he was, um, really comfortable. Yeah. That was all. And that was why his arm had involuntarily wrapped itself around her shoulder.

Claire didn't seem to mind this. She burrowed in deeper, yawning softly. Her arm was smooth. Bender grazed his thumb back and forth against it; he felt her shudder. This pleased him.

It also pleased him when she muttered, "You know, I always thought you were really hot," in her sleep.

Bender decided that cuddling wasn't such a bad thing after all.

(Space)

CRASH.

Bender gave a jolt. At first he couldn't remember where he was, but the sight of moonlit silk and the warm girl wrapped in his arms brought the events of the night rushing back. He checked the clock; 3:45. Shit. He hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Before he could decide whether to go or stay he was distracted by shouts from below.

"You bitch! I go to a damn business meeting and –"

"We both know that wasn't a business meeting, Charles. Just come out and say it. You're fucking that pretty little secretary!"

"Like you give a shit! Who was it that got caught sleeping with my attorney, Veronica?"

"It's just like you to bring that up, you jealous bastard!"

Another crash. Good grief. Didn't any married couples make it without throwing stuff around?

"I hate it when they fight." Claire's eyes shimmered in the darkness, and the glazed look on face said she was still asleep.

"Yeah. Me too."

And he gently pushed her head down onto his chest and held her until she was peaceful again.

When Claire awoke at 1:00 PM with a splitting headache, Bender was in the process of being locked in the closet by Principal Vernon.


	6. Horoscope

A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews! I love hearing what you guys have to think, and any suggestions for improvement are welcome.

Only one more month (roughly) left of school! Can't wait until summer, more time for writing and Claire and Bender to get into trouble!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!

Take care,

Romen

Disclaimer: See previous chapters; "Her voice sounds like money" belongs to F. Scott Fitzgerald, from his work _The Great Gatsby._

Chapter Six

Horoscope

"Chemistry sucks ass!"

Bender threw down his tray and plopped down on the grass. "Why do we even have to take that stupid class?"

"It's beneficial for every student to have a well-rounded experience in the sciences before entering college," Brian informed him.

"I'm probably gonna have to continue that experience into the summer," Bender grumbled. "I'm failing."

"Hey me too!" Andy exclaimed, reaching out to give Bender a high-five. Allison giggled.

The four of them sat in the shade of an oak tree. The air was cool and fresh, as were the sounds of chatter and laughter that floated on spring breezes throughout campus. A bird settled upon a branch and treated the group to its airy song.

Bender tossed a green bean at it and the bird flew away.

"Where's Claire?" Allison queried.

"With her ladies in waiting." Bender didn't understand why she kept hanging around with that stuck-up crowd. Maybe old habits just died hard, or never died at all.

"I can help you out with chemistry, though," Brian offered as if they'd never diverged from the topic.

"That would be awesome," Andy said enthusiastically. "Coach is pretty ticked at me as it is. I don't even know how I'm still on the wrestling team."

Bender tore into a chicken nugget; it tasted more like breaded cardboard. "Would it even help this late in the year?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt. There's still a month before finals. We could have tutoring sessions at my house on Friday evenings or something."

"That's sounds good to me," Andy affirmed.

Everyone looked at Bender. It wasn't that he didn't want or need the tutoring, it was just that Friday was his only day off work besides Sunday, and between Claire, his friends, Claire, his brother, Claire, detention, and Claire, his schedule was jam packed. But then there was the looming threat of summer school…

"All right," he ceded, his voice heavy with reluctance, "but it better work."

"Oh, it will," Brian assured him. "I've tutored loads of people, even Claire."

"So this Friday?" Andy said, slipping his hand into Allison's effortlessly.

Bender didn't listen to Brian's response. He was too busy staring at the two hands, one thick and rugged, the other pale with nub nails, entwined. Andy and Allison didn't even seem to notice their hands were reclining together. They just sat, chatting with Brian easily.

"What?" Allison asked defensively, when she noticed Bender had been staring at her.

"Nothing."

Bender wondered why he had never held Claire's hand.

(Space)

"Check out that sweater."

Monica rolled her eyes. "So last season."

"Jessica has terrible fashion sense." Tammy smirked. "Did you see the shoes she wore last Tuesday? Everyone stopped wearing black months ago."

"I don't get why some people wear black all the time," Kimberly interjected. "It's so ugly. Don't you think, Claire?"

"I don't know…It's all right, I guess," Claire concluded when they continued to stare at her.

Monica's pinched lips gleamed from a recently applied coat of peach lip gloss. "What is wrong with you these days, Claire? You're so apathetic."

Claire was surprised that Monica knew what apathetic meant.

Kimberly nodded. "It's true. The other day this really hot guy at the mall kept checking you out, and you didn't even pay attention."

"And when I told you that the prom theme was going to be Wild West, you didn't even say anything!" Tammy added in an injured tone.

"But I don't care about the prom theme," Claire protested weakly.

"That's exactly the problem; you just don't care anymore. You're so…so…" Monica searched for a proper phrase. "You're so out there lately."

Claire straightened in her seat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It all started when you went out with that Joe Buster," Kimberly continued.

"John Bender," Claire corrected.

"Whatever. I'm worried about you Claire. Someone that would go out with him would have to have really low self-esteem. I mean, he's such a jerk."

"And he's dirt poor," Monica sniffed.

"He looks like he'd smell bad."

"He's really dumb, too."

"He's the one who pulled that fire alarm."

"I heard he went to prison once."

"He's not what you think," Claire interrupted, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the cafeteria. "He's actually a really cool guy. Besides, I'm the one going out with him, not you. I appreciate your concern, but everything's really good right now."

The three girls glanced at each other doubtfully. "Really," Claire insisted. "There's no need for you to worry."

Tammy opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the bell. Claire slowly began to gather her bags. "Go on ahead," she told them. They didn't need to be told twice.

Claire didn't feel like walking with them. The half-hour lunch period had dragged on like a bad road trip; she couldn't wait until the ride was over. Monica was right; Claire was "out there" these days. She'd go to the mall or get her nails done with them, but she felt more like a spectator than a participant. Oddly, this transition didn't bother her. She was no longer certain if she wanted to be grouped with these girls. Their disdain for Bender and anyone else who wasn't a member of the "it" crowd annoyed her. Was it possible that Claire had been that snotty too?

As Claire pushed in her chair, she noticed Bender entering the cafeteria. The breeze whipped at his hair and he flicked a loose strand from his face while vicariously popping his jacket collar. An unconscious smile spread across Claire's face and she hurried over.

"Miss me?" she cooed, bumping him playfully with her elbow.

"I wasn't sure I could bear the separation," he replied sarcastically. "How was the tea party?"

"It was all right."

They passed into the hallway. A short girl with a long, dark braid heading in the other direction waved to Claire, who smiled back.

"Good job at the recital this weekend!" the girl shouted. Then she was swept away by the crowd.

"I didn't know you had a recital," Bender commented lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"My dance school has a recital every season," she explained. "It's really lame."

"Oh."

She looked up at him. His brow was furrowed as if her were thinking very intently about something.

"What's up?"

"Well…Why didn't you tell me you had a dance recital?"

"Why would I? I mean, you wouldn't want to go anyway, right?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't mind seeing a hung-over ballerina."

"For your information," Claire snapped, blushing at the remembrance of Friday night, "the recital was on Sunday, not Saturday."

"Don't worry; I'm sure it was still amusing."

"I'm actually a very good dancer."

"It's all right Claire, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying, I am a good dancer!"

"If that's true, then why didn't you invite me?"

Beneath his mocking tone lay a note of hesitant curiosity. They stopped beside the door of Claire's English class, leaning against the locker lined walls.

"John, do you want to go to my dance recitals?" Claire asked laconically.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"You just don't strike me as the ballet type."

"So I'm not refined enough?" he concluded sharply.

"No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Okay, so maybe that _was _it. Bender's countenance tensed as he received Claire's answer in the lingering silence. "I better get to class," he mumbled.

"Look, you're welcome to come to my recitals any time," Claire said earnestly.

Bender tilted his head in condescension. "I never said I wanted to go to your dance recitals."

Claire rolled her eyes and pecked Bender's cheek before slipping through the doorway. Had she remained a second longer, she would have seen the desolate look Bender cast her way.

(Space)

Reading was not Claire's thing. She preferred to watch the hot guys stroll around on screen instead of piecing together their succulent visage from words scattered on a page. Naturally, English was not her favorite subject. The only thing that made it tolerable was her eccentric teacher.

Mr. Lorio was thin, lanky and made slow, fluid movements. His wispy blond hair was rather Albert Einstein-esque. He would begin a lecture in a low voice and by the end of it he would be shouting. He read poetry so passionately and with such expressive gestures that it was a joke among his students to call him an interpretive dancer. His outrageous behavior and enthusiasm for his work made Claire's least favorite subject her favorite class.

Except for today; today they were studying _The Great Gatsby_, and not even Mr. Lorio could make up for how much Claire loathed that book.

It was mainly because she couldn't understand a thing F. Scott Fitzgerald was saying. It took her two hours just to read one chapter because she had to keep going back over everything again and again. She still wasn't sure if she'd comprehended the events correctly. Claire spent the first thirty minutes of class hunched over her desk, hoping that Mr. Lorio wouldn't call on her.

"And so Gatsby is finally reunited with his long-lost love, and it's great, right?" Mr. Lorio was saying, waving his arms around like he was directing traffic. "Everything's perfect, isn't it, Charles?"

"Yep," Charles said indifferently.

"Is it though?" Mr. Lorio probed, staring at the class suggestively. The class gaped back.

"All right, let me put it this way," Mr. Lorio said when he realized that he wasn't going to get an answer. "Does Gatsby love Daisy?"

"But you just said he did."

"I know, but I lie all the time. So let's think back to that romantic reunion. Was everything as perfect as it should be?"

"Didn't the narrator say something about how it wasn't perfect?"

"Yes, yes he did Charles. Do you know what he said?"

"That it wasn't perfect?"

"Have any of you ever been really excited about something?" Mr. Lorio didn't wait for a response. "Like so excited that it's all you can think about? You just can't wait for it to happen? And suddenly it becomes this huge deal where this thing is the end all and the be all of your existence? And when you get this thing, it's just not as big or great as you thought it would be?"

Claire clearly remembered the kiss from her seventh grade camping trip.

"When we want something, we want it for a reason. We want food because we're hungry and need to eat; we want friendship because we want company; we want a hot car so the chicks are all over us; we want that new skirt so the boys will ask us out. Gatsby has plotted and planned to get this girl for five years. Now tell me, does he really love her, or does he love what she represents to him? What does she represent to him? What is so singular about her?"

"Her voice sounds like money."

Heads swiveled around to look at Claire. It was the only part of the book she really understood.

(Space)

English assignment for that night: Go to a place that you loved as a kid, one that you hadn't been to in a long time. Write about how you feel about that place now in juxtaposition with what that place meant to you then.

Claire wasn't sure what juxtaposition meant, but she assumed it was contrast.

So after Claire had gone home and un-winded in front of the TV for about an hour, she decided to drive to The Park. Growing up, she had always wanted to go to The Park. It had this bouncy, rocking blue seahorse right in front of the entrance. But The Park was not in a "good part of town," as her father had put it, and she had never ridden the seahorse. It seemed an appropriate enough scenario for the assignment, so she gathered a notebook and a pen and was off.

Claire was dismayed to see that the park entrance was decorated with words that she did not consider child appropriate. She had expected the area to be filled with young children, parents in tow. Instead the only inhabitants consisted of an old man sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette, and a group of bristly looking thirteen year olds messing up the swings.

Claire tried to ignore this dismal prospect and turned her focus to the blue seahorse. She gasped; it was utterly perfect. It gleamed as if a fresh coat of paint had been recently applied, and perhaps it had. It was free from graffiti, and its black eyes beckoned to her for a ride across the sea. She gave it a shove; it wobbled jauntily.

Should she? She wanted to awfully bad. She'd wanted to ride that sea horse for ten years. She glanced about her surreptitiously. The only person watching was the old man, who looked so zoned out that what he was seeing probably wasn't registering with his brain anyway.

Oh, why not!

Claire tossed down the notebook and leapt atop the sea horse. The spring creaked loudly as she rocked back and forth. She felt seven years old again.

Just then a squat boy in clothes three times too large ran past her shouting, "You'll never catch me, Lux Luther!"

And Claire froze as the person she least expected to see followed him, retorting, "We shall see, Superman!"

Bender chased the boy up the jungle gym. He raised his arms like he was holding a gun. "You don't stand a chance against my kryptonite laser blaster!" He then proceeded to make "whoosing" sounds as he fired the invisible gun.

"Oh yeah? Take this!"

The boy raised his arm and tossed an imaginary object which apparently had explosive effects. Bender waved his arms in a windmill spouting a slow-motion, "Nooo!" and fell back on the slide, shooting down face up and head first. He landed on the woodchips with a soft plop and remained still, playing dead.

Claire knew this would be her only chance to say this, so she sprung onto her feet and crept over as quietly as possible. Mustering her most seductive tone, she bent over him and drawled, "You lost?"

Bender's face reddened. "You stalking me now, Cherry?" he said smoothly despite his obvious embarrassment.

The boy craned his neck over the bars. "Johnny, you're not supposed to really be dead."

Bender sat up and shook the mulch from his hair. "I'm done for a while, Alex."

"But we just got here!" Alex protested. His eyes, which were hidden behind a tangled mop of black hair, suddenly brightened. "Will you burp the alphabet again?"

Bender ignored him. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"An English assignment," Claire replied, struggling not to smile. "How about you? Trying to defeat Superman again?"

"You like a masked man, Cherry?"

"A mask on you might be an improvement."

"You'd miss this view."

"You wish," she scoffed. "Who's your friend?"

"Alex, the obnoxious brother I told you about."

Claire smiled kindly. "Hi Alex, I'm Claire. It's nice to meet you."

Alex ducked behind the railing.

"He's a lil' shy," Bender explained, hoisting himself to his feet.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"It was slow today, so the boss sent some of us home early."

"What is your job, anyway?"

He grabbed hold of the monkey bars and eyed her playfully. "Guess."

"Probably something illegal."

"You don't think too much of me, do you, Cherry?"

"You don't think much of me either," she countered.

He swung from bar to bar. "I think worlds of you."

"Don't be an ass."

"According to you, I _am_ an ass," he rejoined, dropping to the ground. "You getting into any trouble, Alex?"

"No," the boy called from somewhere inside the jungle gym. "I'm gonna go play on the swings."

"Be my guest."Bender watched attentively as his brother traipsed down the ladder and scurried over to the swings. When Alex was settled, Bender heaved himself atop the jungle gym and sat staring off into the distance, one leg swinging idly.

"So how long are you planning on hanging around this side of paradise, Cherry?"

"Just long enough to finish my assignment. I have some errands to run."

"Does that mean shopping for clothes?" he insinuated.

Claire blushed. "It's not my fault, all right? My neighbor's kid at Yale is coming home for the summer and I need to have a new dress for the dinner party we're throwing this weekend."

"What a convenient excuse. Damn it."

Bender slipped to the ground and crossed over to the swings, shoulders squared. The group of thirteen year old boys was gathered around Alex. The tallest one shoved the child's shoulder in a daunting manner. When he saw Bender coming, he said something to the rest of his group and they dispersed, quiet and with adverted eyes.

"You all right?" Claire heard Bender mutter as she approached.

Alex nodded. His face was flushed and troubled, but he wasn't the tearful mess Claire would have been at his age. Bender leaned back against a post as Alex resumed his playing.

"Those same punks messed with him before," Bender mumbled, almost to himself. "I made sure they wouldn't mess with him again."

Claire heaved an internal sigh. There was something so dashing and noble about Bender beating up a bunch of renegade preteens to protect his brother!

"Seeing your mug probably helped to scare them off too, Cherry."

Maybe he wasn't so dashing and noble after all.

"Why are you so rude to me?" she complained, sinking into the empty swing beside Alex.

"Someone's gotta be. Everyone else is too busy trying to cater to your every need. Trust me. It's good for you."

"Yeah right. You'd probably push me over a – Wahh!"

She was flying through the air at a shocking speed. Before the swing could lose momentum and boomerang back Bender snaked in front and grabbed a hold of it, suspending her at what felt much higher than it was. She could hear the peals of Alex's amusement.

"What was that for?" she shrieked, her hands gripping the chains so tightly that her knuckles had lost all color.

"You said 'push me.'"

"I didn't mean it that way, you dip! I meant that you'd probably push me off a cliff if you had the chance!"

"Oh. In that case…"

And now the swing went flying back. Claire was prepared for it this time, and let her feet drag against the woodchips to check the momentum.

"I should have made you go to that ballet recital just for all the hell you've put me through!" she declared. "You deserve it, after I went to that awful concert…"

Bender grinned. "Oh, you know you liked it."

"I did not, and you knew it too."

"Then how come you wanted to stay?"

"I was intoxicated. I didn't know what I was saying."

"You're quite the lush, Cherry. I hope they won't be serving alcoholic beverages at that dinner party."

"I'd need them if you were there with me," she rejoined. "You drove me to drink at that concert."

An almost imperceptible shadow crossed Bender's face. He took a step back and pulled on an empty swing. It wasn't Claire's fault. She didn't know how many times he'd heard a similar version of that same line in a very different context. How could she know that wounds inflicted on a daily basis still smarted under a kindred remark from a sweeter mouth?

Claire was intuitive enough to realize that something she'd said to Bender had disconcerted him. This point was driven home when he said bitterly, "It'd be a shame for me to fuck up that lovely reunion anyway."

"You wouldn't mess it up," Claire disagreed softly. She didn't want to swear in front of a child.

Bender snorted. "You're funny, Claire."

Claire kicked at the mulch, hesitating. Maybe he was right. She could see the aghast look on her neighbor's and parents' faces, the tense and phony greetings…But the greetings would be phony regardless of whether Bender was there or not. And wasn't Bender one of the few people who was real with her? He'd never beaten around the bush or handled her with kid gloves. She looked up at him. He was standing atop the swing, his eyes fixed on the old man, who stared right back, both equally uncomprehending.

Claire decided there weren't enough messes in her pristine life.

"I want you to come with me this weekend, John."

"What makes you think I want to?"

"You haven't said no yet."

The bellicose light returned to his face. "All right. Don't expect any genteel behavior."

She beamed. "Wouldn't dream of it."

TBC…


	7. Why Knocking Was Invented

A/N: Here's the next update. I hope you all find it satisfactory. And thanks again for the reviews; I love getting your feedback, whether it be for better or worse. 

Hope everyone had a good weekend!

Take care,

Romen

Disclaimer: See previous chapters. Statements italicized with an asterisk ( * ) are taking from the John Hughes film _The Breakfast Club _and do not belong to me. Zach and that Hamiltons, however, do belong to me.

**Chapter Seven**

**Why Knocking Was Invented**

"So you guys know what an ion is, right?" Brian asked. He was sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, a notebook in his lap.

"Yeah, you use an ion to ion your shirt, right?"

"An ion is when a –"

"I know what an ion is, dweebus."

"Guys, we've already wasted two hours," Andy reminded them. "We have to get serious."

"Seriously, Andy?"

"Bender –"

"All right, all right." Bender sighed. "Let's get started."

Bender was stretched out on the top level of Brian's bunk-bed. Andy sat on the edge of the lower mattress, his shoulders set firmly. Bender was sure that the only reason he was in such a hurry was because he had a date with Allison. Bender didn't blame him. He'd rather be hanging out with Claire right now, but she was preparing for tomorrow night's dinner.

Bender groaned internally. Tomorrow night's dinner.

He'd felt a quiet dread all week. It wasn't that he was anxious about going inside of Claire's house; he'd done that the night he took her home after the concert. It was more that he was entering her world, the Mt. Olympus of Shermer, Illinois. He had no idea what to expect, although Claire had done her best to brief him after school.

"Don't worry about dressing up; just look presentable. Try not to mention politics; my mom's a Republican and my dad's a Democrat. They'll be at each other's throats in no time. If you don't like the escargot, don't eat any. My mom uses too much butter sometimes. You know how to eat with formal silverware, don't you? Just start on the outside and work your way in. And don't eat the parsley; it's just for show."

"I know not to eat the parsley," he snapped, tugging at his shirt collar. "I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not," Claire said, laying her head on his shoulder sympathetically. "Don't be nervous; as long as you're yourself, you'll be fine."

"I'm not nervous," he lied.

"That's good."

She'd nuzzled his neck playfully, and Bender felt that warm, fuzzy feeling inside of his chest he always felt when he was around her. It was terrible because it made him goofy – at times an imbecilic guffaw would escape him against his will – but it was also wonderful. It was the best high ever, a perfect mixture of contentedness and bliss. Then he couldn't help but think, "She wants me to come. She wants _me_ to come," like some sort of sappy, twisted mantra. It was at this point that he realized he had to snap out of it, and he'd shake her off and make some kind of cool insult.

"Bender, are you listening?"

"Yep, the answer is four."

"Bender…"

"All right, all right, I'm listening." He waved his hand like a king dismissing a servant. "Please continue."

Brian gave him a stern look before resuming his lesson with Andy. He had drawn a chemical equation on the blank page of his notebook, and was pointing to various sections of it.

"Oxidation is when a chemical _loses_ electrons; reduction is when it _gains_ electrons."

Andy scratched his head. "But…if it's being reduced, how come it's gaining electrons?"

"Its overall charge is being reduced, but its amount of electrons is increasing. It's an inverse relationship. Since electrons are negative, they cancel out protons, reducing the charge. With oxidation –"

Bender tried to pay attention. He really did; but chemistry just wasn't that engaging of a subject and his mind started to wonder. First his thoughts centered on the _Star Wars_ poster on the opposite wall. He'd never seen the movies, but he had to admit, that Princess Leia girl was pretty hot. Maybe he'd have to check them out some time. He wondered what Claire would say if he told her that Princess Leia was hot. Maybe she'd get jealous. He grinned at the thought. Maybe he'd say something tomorrow night, just to tick her off. Ugh. Tomorrow night. He'd probably be saying a lot of things to tick people off. How did you even talk to the American elite? That's what they seemed like to Bender; elite. He'd never met anyone higher on the social ladder.

And then there was that ambiguous conversation he'd had with Claire in the closet the day that they'd met, when he divulged the tentative theory he'd been developing during detention:

"_Remember how you said your parents use you to get back at each other? Wouldn't I be excellent in that capacity?"*_

Why else would she invite someone like him into her perfect world?

Bender swung his legs over the side of the mattress and dropped to the floor. He had to distract himself.

He examined the _Star Trek_ figurines on Brian's shelf for about two minutes. Bender had always liked the bald guy. When that occupation lost its charm he strolled over to Brian's desk and investigated the odds and ends scattered across its surface; a fancy ball point pen, directions to building a Lego airplane, a framed photograph of a Spaniel, and a science magazine.

Bender decided to inspect the magazine further. He opened the cover and flipped to the first article, and was immediately confused.

"What's staticity?"

Brian cast him a frustrated glance. "It's a theorem some scientists are currently trying to prove."

"A theorem about what?"

"Static black holes."

Bender blinked. "Well that answers my question. What's a static black hole?"

"It's a black hole without charge or momentum. They're like other black holes in almost every respect, except they don't rotate. Their event horizon is different too."

"What's an event horizon?"

"It's like the point of no return. Once matter crosses the event horizon, there's no chance it will ever escape the black hole's gravitational force. The object gets really slow and distorted, and light starts to turn red as it gets closer. But the event horizon isn't an actual surface, it's just a mathematically defined time zone. On a rotating black hole, the event horizon is messy and hard to define. On a static black hole, its location is defined exactly."

"Okay…So what does this staticity theorem have to do with – all of that stuff?"

"Well, it's hypothesized that the results of the study will prove that a static black hole's domain of outer communications is also static."

"What's a domain of outer communications?"

"As fascinating as this all is," Andy broke in, "we really should be concentrating on chemistry."

"Oh yeah!" Brian turned back to his notebook. "Sorry, I just love astronomy."

Astronomy wasn't the only thing Brian loved. When Bender flipped to the next page in the magazine, "Claire Johnson" was doodled all over the margins.

(Space)

Sometimes the simplest things in life prove to be the hardest, and right now pushing the doorbell felt like a death sentence to Bender. He must have stood staring at the miniscule, silver button for at least a full minute before he finally mustered the courage to press it. He was tempted to jump into the rose bushes and take off Rambo style, but he forced himself to stay rooted to the porch.

His nerves had climaxed that afternoon. The boss almost sent him home early because he kept dropping dishes. When his shift was over, he hung out with Gads in the parking lot and smoked some weed. A lot of weed. In retrospect it probably wasn't the smartest move, but at least it had mitigated his stress somewhat.

The door opened and Claire stood in the frame. She was wearing a black dress that ended just above her knees. It fit her extremely well, perhaps a bit snugly around more curvaceous sections, but Bender didn't mind that at all.

"Been waiting for me with bated breath, Cherry?"

"Please, I was hoping you wouldn't show up." The beaming smile she gave him made it obvious that she was joking. "Come on in."

Bender obeyed and crossed the event horizon.

The last time he'd been in the Standish home it had been too dark to make anything out. Tonight the lights were on, and Bender was impressed by the sheer size of the room he stood in; his entire house could probably fit inside of it. The walls were a blinding shade of white, as was the carpet. The décor was very modern; black leather furniture, black marble fireplace, lamps twisted into artsy shapes, abstract water color paintings. Three long, thin slivers of mirrors hung above the mantelpiece, which was filled with photographs of Claire. Come to think of it, so was most available wall space.

"Mom, Dad, this is John. John, these are my parents, Veronica and Stewart."

John tore his eyes away from a painting of what looked like either a headless donkey or a fat lady and turned his attention to the two people standing in front of him. Veronica Standish wasn't a very tall woman, but her teased up platinum blond hair added a couple inches. She wore a trim dress suit with angular shoulder pads that accentuated her unnaturally thin waist, a victim of fanatic dieting. Everything about her suggested force and determination, including the skin stretched tight across her face from a botched facelift.

In contrast, everything about Stewart Standish spoke of submission. He was slim and stooped, his shoulders rounded as if he had given Claire too many piggy back rides when she was growing up. His hair was the color of his daughter's, but was becoming dusted with age, as was the dim smile plastered across his face.

Bender was pretty sure he knew who threw the vase that night.

"It's nice to meet you, John," Mr. Standish said, grasping Bender's hand enthusiastically.

"Pleasure's all mine, Stew."

Mrs. Standish's greeting came in the form of an icy glare.

Claire touched his arm lightly and gestured toward the sofa, on which were seated a middle-aged man and woman. Both were stocky, but their impeccable dress and posture spoke of long standing wealth.

"John, these are our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton."

They smiled coolly.

"And over here is Zach, the guest of honor."

Claire didn't need to point him out; Zach had already lunged forward. He seized Bender's hand like he was a long lost friend. His straw blond hair wasn't long, but it wasn't short either; it was a length between Bender's and Andy's. He wore khaki pants and a polo sweater that screamed "prep."

"It's great to meet you," Zach enthused, his blue eyes gleaming good-naturedly.

Bender gaped. "You want an autograph or something?"

"Oh, sorry." Zach let go of his hand and chuckled awkwardly.

"Well, now that we're all here…" Mr. Standish clapped his hands together. "Let's eat!"

Bender stuck close to Claire's side as they followed the party down the hall. "Remember, just be yourself," she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile.

John couldn't even manage a grimace.

The Standish dining room was decorated in the colonial style. The walls were painted a pale blue with white wainscoting; the claw-footed table had an elegant marble finish; the French windows were dressed with floor-length curtains. Above the table hung a glistening crystal chandelier as priceless as the diamond Bender wore in his earlobe.

Claire stopped by the chair closest to the dining room entrance; she didn't sit down, but just stood behind it. Bender naturally chose the seat beside her.

"There's place settings," she said in a low voice, pointing to the gilded index card before her plate. It read "Claire S." in embossed letters. "You're across the table from me."

"Oh." John went to his assigned seat reluctantly. He was now placed caddy-corner from Mr. Standish, who sat at the head of the table. At the opposite end was Mrs. Standish. Zach stopped at the chair beside Claire's, and Mr. Hamilton was beside him, caddy-corner from Mrs. Standish. Bender was stuck with Mrs. Hamilton.

Everyone remained standing until Mrs. Standish had taken her seat. Bender plopped down in his chair and began to fiddle with his placement card. Mrs. Hamilton gave him an indignant look, as if he'd gone about the whole sitting-down thing wrong. That was when Bender noticed Zach holding Claire's chair out for her.

"Thank you," Claire murmured, smoothing her skirt as she sat down.

"Of course."

There was no way Bender was going to hold Mrs. Hamilton's chair out for her.

Bender took in the cutlery spread out before him. There were two forks, a spoon, and two glasses. Rich people had way too much time on their hands if they didn't mind washing all these dishes. He was so dumbfounded by the array that he didn't notice everyone had removed the napkin folded in the center of their plates and placed it in their laps until a dumpy old woman who he assumed was the maid entered with a full tray from which she began to serve them. Claire was served first. Bender was shocked to see the micro size of the plate, and even more shocked at it's practically barren surface; three orange slices, three green leaves with some orange stuff slapped on top, and a speck of red goo in the center of it all.

From observation alone Bender deduced that everyone must be served before the eating could begin. The old woman made frequent trips back and forth from the kitchen, and by the time Bender's plate was finally set in front of him the munchies had started to kick in. The minute the last plate kissed the table, Bender had stabbed an orange slice and popped it in his mouth.

Mrs. Hamilton shot him another glare. Bender raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. He glanced around the table. Everyone was scooping up their oranges with their forks like they thought they were using spoons. This unreasonable style of eating, combined with the fact that everyone was using their mouths more for talking than for chewing, caused the first course to lag on indefinitely.

The maid eventually returned with a bottle of wine, filling one of each person's two glasses about a fourth of the way – everyone except for Claire, Bender, and Zach, that is. When that task was done, she returned with a pitcher of water and filled the other glass.

"So are you enjoying your classes at Yale, Zach?" Mr. Standish asked in the middle of a particularly dull conversation about the ailing stock market.

"Yeah, it's great there. The teachers really know what they're talking about."

"Zach's studying genetics," Mr. Hamilton explained proudly, as the maid began to remove their plates. "He's going to be a molecular neurobiologist."

Mr. Standish nodded approvingly. "There's good money in that."

"Yeah, but it's not really the money that interests me. You see" – Zach leaned forward in his seat ever so slightly – "I believe that there's so much good science can do for mankind. The only problem is there aren't enough members of mankind willing to do anything for science. This is just my way of helping to make the world a better place."

Claire smiled. "That's very selfless of you Zach."

Bender looked at her in disgust. She couldn't have possibly fallen for that soliloquy; it was the biggest load of shit Bender had ever heard. 'Do my little part for the world…' Who was he, Tiny Tim?

"Yeah, that money's not too bad though, is it?" Bender insinuated, taking a sip of water. Mrs. Hamilton gave him another one of her steely glares. This time Bender glared right back.

"It definitely isn't a drawback," Zach admitted. "So do you know what you want to do when you're done with high school?"

Crap. Bender wished that the maid would bring out the next course; he could have used a bite to buy some time. He glanced at Claire. Her brown eyes regarded him curiously. She couldn't possible care about how he planned on wasting his life.

"_Remember how you said your parents use you to get back at each other?"*_

"I think I'm gonna go into law," he decided at last, his face tense.

Mr. Standish seemed pleasantly surprised. "Always a good future in the law business."

"I guess I should say the breaking of laws, rather," Bender amended, placing his elbows on the table (he could feel Mrs. Hamilton's eyes bore into the back of his head). "I believe that I have enough experience in breaking the law to consider a permanent career in the Criminal Arts. I'll still have to study law rigorously. It's impossible to break a law efficiently if you are not aware of its existence."

The silence was unanimous. Bender took this to mean they required further explanation.

"I've also considered professional bumming. Of course I could enter this career path at any time. The good thing about it is there's always an open position. And if that fails, I'll probably end up working on cars in a body shop and selling weed on the side."

Mrs. Standish was clenching her glass so tightly Bender was surprised the stem hadn't snapped in her hands yet. He glanced at Claire; she was wavering between a grimace and a smile, like someone tragically unhappy that doesn't want to ruin their gloom with a snicker. The silence dragged on uncomfortably. Bender didn't know why they were so surprised. He'd only voiced the judgment they'd made the first time they'd laid their eyes on him.

The reappearance of the maid seemed to restore some peace of mind to Bender's dinner companions. They were able to wrench their eyes away from him and concentrate on the maid's stout figure as she brought forth the next part of their meal.

Zach made a pitiful effort to smile. "Well that's…interesting. So, Claire, do you know what you want to do after high school?"

"I haven't decided yet," she confessed. "I know I'll go to a college, but I don't know which one."

"She's going to be a Notre Dame girl, just like her old dad was," Mr. Standish declared.

"You were a Notre Dame girl, Stew?" Bender inquired innocently.

"Well no, I mean –"

"Aren't these garnishes adorable?" Mrs. Hamilton blurted, pointing with her fork to a piece of zucchini cut in the shape of a rose. "I'll never know how you make them look this good, Veronica."

This single comment launched half an hour's worth of praise for Mrs. Standish – not only for her excellent zucchini arranging skills, but her "natural beauty," "grace," and "generosity."

Bender wondered how generous of a tip the shuffling old maid would receive.

The arrival of the third course caused another shift in the conversation. Apparently shrimp bisque flambé, which Bender thought looked very much like regurgitated potato soup, was Zach's favorite dish. The Hamiltons began to reminisce about the days when it was the only soup Zach would eat.

"When did you grow out of that?" Mr. Hamilton pondered, stroking his round chin.

Mrs. Standish smirked (Bender didn't think that woman could ever produce a real smile). "I remember; it was the year Zach and Claire went to camp together over spring break. Claire was in eighth grade, I believe."

"Seventh," Claire corrected.

This was all starting to ring a bell. Hadn't Bender heard something about Claire going to camp before tonight?

"Either way, they don't serve flambé at camp."

"They serve a lot of vegetable soup though," Zach joked. "I guess I just developed a taste for different things."

He looked pointedly at Claire, whose face was immediately suffused with a crimson glow.

Now Bender remembered. They'd been playing truth or dare…

"_Who was your first kiss?"_

"_A guy from camp in seventh grade."_

Shit.

Bender's chest tightened. "What else did you develop a taste for, Zach?"

Zach's face twitched. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I'm sure you do."

Clave gave Bender an annoyed look. Although the defiant expression never left his face, Bender swallowed his next pugnacious remark with a forkful of salad and remained silent.

Bender had no appetite for the next two courses. One was some kind of sticky sorbet, which Mrs. Standish described as a palate cleanser. Next came some weird fishy tasting pastry with fancy waffle fries that were referred to as "gaufrette potato baskets." The small portions suddenly made sense. By the time dessert had rolled around, Bender was ready to call it quits and take a nap.

He had hoped he would be served something he could identify; a simple piece of cake would have been nice. He was dismayed to see a ribbon-like sweet bread wrapped around some kind of frothy cream, all of it drizzled in chocolate. Wasn't anything simple around here?

"I think someone already ate part of this cake-stuff," he remarked, just to vent his frustrations.

"It's tuille," Mrs. Standish said coldly. "It's supposed to look that way."

"Like somebody bit a chunk out of it?"

Mr. Hamilton frowned. "What's your last name, John?"

"Bender. Why? Gonna look me up in the phone book?"

"I was just wondering if we had a mutual acquaintance."

"I doubt I'd be acquainted with anyone who runs in your social circle," he replied with a good deal of bitterness.

"But I must have heard this person describe you a million times," Mr. Hamilton insisted. "Are you sure that you're not acquainted with a Richard Vernon?"

Bender grinned; Dick would know someone like ole' Mr. Hamilton. "Would you believe me if I told you he locked me in a closet?"

Muffled gasps scuttled around the table like mice trapped in a maze. Claire was shaking her head vigorously, but Bender paid her no mind.

Mr. Hamilton's bloated face seemed to inflate further. "Richard Vernon is a close friend of mine, and I will not tolerate anyone who attempts to slander him."

"Do you do that for attention?" Mrs. Hamilton interjected before Bender could respond.

"Do what?"

"Wear your hair that long, and those tattered clothes; is that for attention?"

Bender leaned toward her seductively. "I do it just to drive you crazy, honey-Ham."

Claire stood, her chair screeching rancorously as it scraped across the hardwood floor. "I'm finished, how about we go upstairs, John?"

John followed her from the dining room, but not before giving Mrs. Hamilton a provocative wink and reminding Mr. Hamilton to "Call me!"

(Space)

"What is wrong with you?" Claire hissed once they were in the safety of her room.

"The doctor told me it's a birth defect."

"You know what I mean. Why did you have to say all of those rude things?"

"They were rude to me first," he snapped. "You know you wanted me to, anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

"Forget it."

The guitar was still in the window-seat where he'd left it the last time he'd been in her room. He wandered over and picked it up, situating himself against the windowpane. He strummed aimlessly. He needed to take his mind off of how little control he really had in this situation.

"I'm sorry I went off at you," Claire conceded after a strained pause. She snickered. "Do you really want to work in a body shop and sell weed on the side?"

"It beats doing what I do now for the rest of my life."

"You've never told me what that is."

He chewed the inside of his cheek hesitantly. "Bussing tables and washing dishes at some two bit restaurant."

Claire sat down on the floor beside him and rested her head against his thigh; Bender's pulse quickened. "I guess the body shop idea does beat that."

"So…Regret inviting me yet?" he prompted as nonchalantly as possible.

"Of course not. You made what would have been a really boring dinner a lot more interesting. And I like being with you."

Bender set the guitar down as delicately as possible. He wanted to say something a nice guy would, the kind of guy who actually knew what to do when he met the parents and who bought flowers and chocolates for his girlfriend on special occasions.

"You look very pretty tonight," he said softly.

He had expected her to laugh. Instead she looked up at him in all seriousness and murmured, "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She was rosy and warm, her skirt askew so he could see the promise of her thigh. He wanted to tell her that there were other things he wanted to say, much nicer and more meaningful, but that he couldn't because he didn't know what they were. They were the surges of warmth, the fuzziness in his chest, the things he hated and loved and couldn't understand. Even though he knew she could never fathom the undercurrent of longing that slept in the statement, he could only say, "It's the nicest thing I'll ever say to you."

She lifted her head and rose to meet his lips. The kiss began slowly, nervously, and then her hands were tangled in his hair and he stood, his palms cradling her cheeks. But she pulled back, drawing him to the end of the mattress, to the bed, to the headboard with a gentle, tugging kiss. She wasn't trying to pull away from him. She was leading him to some secret place only she knew how to reach.

"John," she breathed between kisses, and the very sound seemed to make him hold her tighter, as if he could suspend the whisper in his arms for an eternity.

He heard the footsteps drawing near but disregarded them. "John," Claire repeated, except this time her voice was anxious and he could tell that whatever sentiment this exclamation had previously held was withdrawn. But he didn't want to stop, not now when she was so soft and vivid…

He let go of her just as Zach opened the door.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

TBC…


	8. Four Letter Words Part 1

A/N: So I'm back, and I come with good news and bad news. Good news is that school gets out on June 2; bad news is that I'm having to study my brains out for finals.

And I have even worse news. One June 5 I go in for scoliosis spine surgery. This means that there probably won't be any updates for at least two months, if not longer. I have another medical condition that makes healing from anything a very slow process. This condition is called dysautonomia. If you're ever bored, research it. It's rather interesting.

So if you don't see any updates for a long time, it's because I'm lying somewhere asleep or doped up on pain meds. I'm going to try and get another update in before my surgery, but finals are doing all they can to make that impossible.

Anyway, thanks once again for the reviews! Your feedback is always appreciated.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Take care,

Romen

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

Chapter 8

Four Letter Words – Part 1

Claire sighed and let her head fall back against the patio chair. She was terribly bored.

She usually never had time for boredom. There was student council, prom planning committee, dance, shopping, her weekly manicure and hair appointments, and Bender, but today all of that fell through. Her manicure was scheduled for Tuesday; prom committee didn't convene until tomorrow morning; dance was on Thursday. None of her friends were available to go shopping, and when she hit the mall alone she always ended up buying something she didn't want or like. And Bender –

Come to think of it, she hadn't heard from Bender all day.

He usually made plans with her on Sundays evenings since it was his day off. She wondered vaguely why he hadn't called her up yet; it was already five o'clock. Perhaps seeing her last night at the dinner party was enough romance for one weekend. It wasn't like he was crazy about her, after all – he made that obvious enough.

She scowled; she was just being silly. He could have called her while she was outside and she just didn't hear the phone ring. Her spirits lifted. There was probably a message waiting for her on the answering machine right now. She sprung up and pranced into the kitchen, heading for the answering machine eagerly.

No new messages.

She drummed her fingers idly against the countertop. She couldn't wait by the phone all evening. She should just give Bender a call and – but no, she didn't want to look desperate.

Desperate? This was the 80s, and Claire was a strong, independent woman who was totally capable of taking control of the situation. She picked up the phone with determination and dialed Bender's number. It was answered after thirteen rings.

"'Lo?"a masculine voice grunted.

"Hi, may I speak to John please?"

"What for?"

Claire had called Bender before, but he had always been the one to answer. This had to be Bender's dad; he was the only man she knew of that lived with him, and he sounded very drunk. She felt a surge of indignation, and it took all of her self-control to maintain her flawlessly polite tone.

"Because I'm his girlfriend," she said sweetly. She wanted to add, "Who cares about him and has the authority to report anyone who knocks him around," but she knew that would only get Bender in trouble.

"Well I'll be damned; the boy isn't totally worthless. JOHNNY! GET YER ASS IN HERE!"

"What?" she heard a voice mutter bitterly in the background.

"Your girl wants to talk to you."

There was dead silence, then sounds of movement and gruff laughter that grew increasingly faint.

"What do you want?" Bender said at last.

Claire twisted the phone cord around her index finger. "I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight."

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't," he replied dismally. "I promised my little brother I'd take him to the fair."

"Oh," she said, unable to hide her disappointment. "Well have fun!"

"Why do you ask? Can't stand being away from me?" he teased.

"You wish! It's just so boring over here. You have no idea. All my friends are busy and – oh wait! I haven't tried Zach yet, he might not have any –"

"I'd suggest that you come to the fair with us," Bender interrupted nonchalantly, "but I'm not sure that's how a princess would want to spend her evening."

Claire grinned. "And you know how a princess likes to spend her evenings?"

"I'm an expert on princesses."

"Well you're wrong; I'd love to come." An idea struck her. "Do you mind if I invite the rest of the gang?"

"Why?"

"It's been a while since we all got together outside of school."

"I'm pretty sure we've never gotten together outside of school," he corrected drily.

"Then this is the perfect time to start."

"We're not all going to fit in my car."

"We can take my mom's SUV."

"That means you'd have to come pick me up…at my house."

"Is that a problem?"

"No." His tone said otherwise.

He'd seemed ever so slightly intimidated by the Standish establishment the night before, which probably translated into a nerve wracking experience locked deep in Bender's emotional safe. And she could only imagine the condition of his home…

"John," she began carefully, "there's no reason to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," he snapped. "I said I didn't have a problem with it, right?"

"Okay, I was just checking. I'm going to give everyone a call and see if they want to come, I'll talk to you later."

Sometimes she wished he'd just come out and say what he was thinking; other times she was afraid that he would.

(Space)

"Look, guys, I think this ride is way too intense for Alex…"

"No it's not!"

"He's scared, he's just in denial. I'm in AP Psych, so I know all about denial," Brian explained.

Andy draped his arm around Allison's shoulders. "This ride isn't that bad, Brian."

"That might be easy for you to say, Andy, but you're not a seven year old child," Brian blustered, gesturing toward Alex, who scowled back at him with an emotion that was anything but fear.

They stood before a white, towering structure lined with spinning compartments that glided along as if on a conveyer belt. It wouldn't have been daunting had it not been for the speed and violence with which the compartments shook and the screams that emitted from within. In the center of the structure were blinking lights arranged to spell "The Zipper."

Claire smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry Brian; when I was six I went on a ride just like this one at Disneyland."

"Disneyland?" Bender sneered. His face grew serious. "Did you wish upon star?"

"It makes no difference who you are," Andy quipped.

Claire waved them away. "You guys are just jealous that you didn't get to go."

"I've been to Disneyland," Allison said suddenly. "My cousin is the guy who dresses up like Dopey."

Before anyone could comment on this new piece of information, the Zipper righted itself and squealed to a stop. The line began to steadily move forward as compartments were emptied of their dizzied contents, filled with new passengers, and yanked up the conveyer belt to make room for another compartment waiting to go through the same process.

"I'm gonna take Alex on the bumper cars," Brian decided at last, paling. "We'll meet up with you guys when you're done."

"But I'm not scared!" Alex complained. "I've been on that one loads of times!"

"I'll ride this one with you a little later," Bender promised. His eyes sparkled mischievously. "That is, if you're not scared anymore."

Alex made a face, but obeyed his brother.

"There's probably a height limit, anyway," Claire heard Brian say weakly before they disappeared among the crowd.

Bender smirked. "I wonder if they teach anything about irony in Brian's Psych class."

Andy and Allison were the first to embark; Claire and Bender climbed into the following compartment. Claire balanced on the torn, duct-taped seats reluctantly. "Are you sure this ride is in the safest condition?"

Bender grabbed hold of one of the bars that covered the opening and gave a hardy shake. "These seem strong enough."

Claire's nose wrinkled. "It's like a cage."

"More like a correctional facility."

They were conveyed forward; the compartment wobbled precariously. "Have you ever been to a correctional facility?"

She knew it was a bold question, and she wasn't surprised to see a guarded shadow fell over his face. "It was a facility," he said at last, "but it didn't do any correcting."

"Oh." She paused. "When were you there?"

"Two years ago. I ran away from home," he explained, anticipating her next question. "It wasn't so bad, except for the damn group therapy sessions. Better than being at home, really."

She didn't find that hard to believe. His house had exceeded her expectations for the abysmal. It was in the kind of street she was afraid to drive down alone, the kind that was printed in the newspaper alongside the words "Shooting" and "Robbery." She had wondered why Bender had only used landmarks and not street names when giving her directions, but she soon realized why; all of the street signs were missing. When she'd pulled up in front of his house, she'd hoped she had the wrong one. The front window was covered with a trash bag, broken bottles and cardboard fragments littered the front yard, and the roof looked like it was about to cave in. But no, she'd followed the directions to a T, and before she could even unbuckle her seatbelt Bender had slammed the screen door, which hung pointlessly by one hinge, and was in the car with his brother. No one had said anything until they were back on the main road.

"You know…" He leaned toward her, drawing her from her reverie, "I should have mentioned my correctional experience last night at dinner. That certainly would have made an impression."

"I think you made enough of an impression already. The minute you were out the door, my mom asked, 'Was that boy high on marijuana?'"

Bender beamed like he'd been given a heartfelt compliment. "Perceptive, that one. I was surprised they even allowed you to continue associating with such a corruptive individual as myself."

"My mom was dead set against us, so naturally my dad was all for us." Claire let out a small sigh. "I'll never understand how two people so different could end up together."

"Well you know Cherry, they say opposites attract."

"Yeah but not for long."She laid back in her seat, unaware of the suspicious stains drizzled across the vinyl. "I guess when they were first dating it didn't matter if they didn't like the same things. She went off with her friends and did the things she liked to do and he went off with his friends, and when they got together they were ready to try something different. But when they got married and saw each other every day there was just nothing to agree on."

"They could agree to disagree."

"That doesn't work."

"So if two people are at all different, they can't make it work," he summarized, his eyes following her intently.

She frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"But that's what you said."

"I was talking about my parents."

"Then if two people, who are not your parents, are in a relationship and are different from each other, they can make it work?"

"It- It depends," she stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

"On what?"

Claire didn't mind personal questions – as long as she was the one asking them; and this was definitely a personal question, seeking an answer that had been developed after seventeen years of heart-shredding insults, shattered glass, and tears. Claire didn't know how to translate the sense of fatality and fear that wrapped around her heart whenever she heard the word "love."

Claire was fumbling for words to express what she wasn't even sure was express-able when the compartment did a lazy roll. "It's starting!" she squealed, crushing into him and the space in which his question had lingered.

"What keen observation skills – Shit!"

The ground tilted dangerously through the bars; the main structure of the Zipper was beginning to flip on its side. The compartment gained speed, and the most intense spinning session of Claire's life began.

The ride lasted a total of three minutes; Claire's screaming lasted for about two. There were times when Claire thought, "This isn't too bad," and then they'd change directions or the main structure would lean even farther to the right or the left; once it managed to turn itself upside down. At this point Claire's voice reached a higher pitch and Bender, who alternated between uproarious laughter and swear words, latched onto her hand. She barely noticed; she was too busy fearing for her life. The compartment wobbled riskily with each movement, and an image of half-drunk carnies tossing together The Zipper whilst forgetting to tighten a crucial screw that happened to hold the entire ride together kept revolving through her mind.

Claire often pictured herself in near-death scenarios. Sometimes she was rescued by a hunky hero; other times…well, she was always flattered by the line of devastated mourners who showed up at her funeral and wept over her obit. Occasionally the school would construct a courtyard and dedicate it to her.

Fortunately Claire's funeral fantasies were not meant to come true; she was still in one piece at the end of three minutes. She could sense that the compartment had stopped moving, but the world around her still sloshed like a wave pool. She forced herself to focus on Bender.

"That was insane!"

His head fell back against the seat weakly. "Tell me about it."

"Is my hair all right?"

"I don't know, why don't you take its temperature?"

Claire rested a hand against her forehead. "I feel like I'm on a boat."

"Don't be seasick." He grinned. "I won't blame you if you're lovesick, though."

"You're impossible."

"Impossibly attractive."

"Maybe in your twisted world."

"The world doesn't need me to twist it; it's messed up enough as it is."

"You're certainly not doing anything to help fix that."

"I don't see you running out to join the Peace Corps, Cherry."

"I do charity work sometimes, you know," she informed him irritability.

"Like what, donating all of those last season rags to Salvation Army?"

Claire scowled and started to turn away, when she realized she couldn't. He still had a hold of her hand. Her face grew warm. She berated herself for her embarrassment; it was just holding hands! Six year olds held hands; old married couples held hands. Best friends held hands. You held hands when you wanted to give support and sympathy, when you reached out and discovered you weren't alone. It was porch swings, and sweet, timid kisses when you didn't know what to do with those five fingered monstrosities, so you grabbed the hands of your partner and the whole predicament disappeared in a strawberry flavored haze.

And that was why it was such a big deal. Bender wasn't the porch swing, strawberry haze type of boyfriend. Each tender word or touch from him thrilled her; it was so delightfully unexpected, but always short lived and dampened by a sharp gesture, which is why she shouldn't have been surprised when Bender tore his hand away and snapped, "Jeeze, Cherry, are you trying to crush my knuckles?"

"You're the one who grabbed hold of me, remember?" She turned her face away, stung. It shouldn't bother her so much, him being an ass hole, at least not anymore; it wasn't like he'd ever led her to believe he'd be anything else. But those moments filled her with such unreasonable hope…

"Maybe you have selective memory." He peered through the bars and chucked. "Take a look at Sporto."

Andy was stumbling across the platform, much to Allison's amusement, who was in the process of trying to guide him down the stairs. It was a truly comedic scene, but Claire wasn't in the mood for laughing. She managed to force a small smile.

She didn't notice Bender's hand hovering just above hers. She only saw him shove it in his pocket when their compartment reached the platform.

(Space)

"No, no, that one!"

"Which one?"

"The green one!"

"We'll take the green one, Vern."

Vern, a surly carnival worker covered with sweat and tattoos, lifted the emerald hued dinosaur and handed it over to Bender, who promptly deposited it into Alex's outstretched arms, which already held a cornucopia of prizes. A large foam plane and a stick of cotton candy were tucked under one arm, and a small coke mirror with a picture of Van Halen was safely stashed under the other.

"Here, let me help you out." Bender seized the cotton candy and took a hearty bite.

"Hey, give it; that's mine!"

"Oh yeah? Did you pay with your lunch money?" Despite his sarcasm, Bender lowered the sweet, frothy bouquet to Alex's level; the seven-year-old tore out a chunk and was appeased.

"You want some, Cherry?" Bender offered. "It's not a carnival until fructose corn syrup has been ingested."

"Maybe a little," she ceded shyly. She took the daintiest nibble.

"You're such a pig, Claire. It's a good thing Andy and Allison are on the carousel; there wouldn't be enough left for them. You want some, Brian?"

"No thanks. So that Zipper ride wasn't too bad, huh?"

Claire shook her head. "Not really. I was pretty dizzy afterwards, but not for long."

"It was baby stuff compared to the Rotor," Bender interjected through a mouthful of cotton candy. "If you could handle that, you could definitely handle The Zipper." He paused in front of a booth. The back wall was covered with bright blue balloons. "Hold this," he commanded, thrusting the stick of cotton candy at Brian, and went to speak to the booth worker.

Claire smiled at the mention of the Rotor, or rather at the recent memories it recalled. She'd been apprehensive when she first stepped inside the tall, cylindrical construction. "What is this thing supposed to do again?" she'd asked as Bender drug her to the nearest wedge of wall.

"The walls spin around really fast and you get stuck to them because of the momentum."

"Sounds…lovely."

"It is – until the floor drops out."

Before Claire could voice any of the protests that popped into her mind, a nasally voice came over the intercom: "Please stand with your backs against the wall. We cannot stop the ride if you feel faint or sick. Enjoy and be sure to stop by other carnival attractions."

"You heard the lady, Cherry; on the wall!" Bender threw an arm around her waist and pressed her back against him. Her stomach did a small flip, and she was certain that it wasn't just because the room had started to spin.

Like all carnival rides, it started slowly enough, but soon everything around Claire was a blur. An invisible force crushed her against Bender, who chuckled. "What?" Claire managed to gasp.

"Check out Allison."

Allison had somehow managed to do a handstand and was now plastered to the wall upside down. Andy was in the process of trying to wriggle into a similar position, but the momentum was too strong for even the wrestler to fight against.

"It's because of the centrifugal force," Brian explained nervously to Alex, who was wiggling up the wall like an inch worm. "The static friction force moving in toward the center has to be greater than the – oh crap…"

Claire couldn't tell if the walls were growing taller or the floor was sinking beneath them; all she knew was that she was being supported by thin air. Bender thrust his legs out wildly; they snapped back against the wall. Claire couldn't even manage to wave her arms.

"It's like we're falling down the rabbit hole," she said after she was able to catch her breath, "like in _Alice in Wonderland_."

"Yeah." His breath tickled her cheek. "Except you're the wonder."

Claire's heart gave an agitated thump. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"It isn't funny."

"It isn't supposed to be."

She tilted her head upward to see his face. His eyes had lost their playful smolder. They bored into her with a quiet intensity that made her mouth water. All of a sudden she was only dimly aware of the world rotating around them, and as far as she knew the centrifugal force consisted of the warmth emanating from his body.

"Let's stay here forever," she whispered involuntarily, her lips pursing shut the moment the words escaped.

He smiled, frustratingly composed. "If you say so."

He didn't think she was being serious; but she was. In this dark vortex there was no remonstrance, no interruption, only the energy that held them together. And Claire wanted them to be together, more than she'd ever let Bender know. His disdain for the sentimental would only cause more friction between them, but maybe that was one of the reasons she liked him so much. He might tease her with lovey-dovey pet names or clichéd phrases he'd heard in a movie, but he would never mislead her when it came to how much he cared about her, even if that amount wasn't very much.

It stung. She'd never cared about someone more than they cared about her before; but then again, Bender pretty much embodied everything she had yet to experience. He didn't melt if she offered a flattering remark, like her parents or all of the other guys at school; all compliments were accepted as an obvious truth. He didn't crack under an insult; he flung one right back. Nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him. Sometimes she suspected that he didn't feel anything underneath that shell of sarcasm and belligerence; but when he stroked her cheek, or held her hand on a carnival ride…

"Cherry?" hed said softly, his lips brushing her forehead.

"What?"

"If you puked on this thing, do you think it would fly back and hit you in the face?"

"You're disgusting."

But he wasn't disgusting; he was all too desirable…

A loud "pop!" zapped her from her memories and back into reality. Bender had thrown a dart at one of the balloons; he was now aiming another.

"Are you gonna win something else for me?" Alex inquired eagerly, pushing his way over to the booth.

"You already got enough stuff." He flung the next dart, missing the target miserably. "As soon as we're done here I'll take you on the Zipper."

"Awesome! Did you hear that Brian?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I just hope you're prepared to comfort Alex when he gets scared, Bender."

"Wouldn't be a first," Bender muttered. He flung the last dart; this time it hit a balloon dead on. "Third time's the charm. What's the score?"

"Two hundred points," the carnival worker barked, scratching at her flabby underarm.

"Gee, I'm a rich man." He leaned his elbows against the counter and began to survey the prizes arrayed across its surface. "Let's see…"

"Get the blue pig," Alex proposed, "the one with the vampire tooth hanging out of its mouth."

"What do you think, Cherry, should I go with the blue pig?"

Claire approached the counter thoughtfully. "Don't you like the teddy bear, Alex?"

His nose wrinkled. "It's pink."

"We'll take that one," Bender informed the carnie, pointing at the bear. She lobbed it at him like she was tossing out an empty pizza box.

Alex eyed the plushy animal with suspicion. "I don't want it."

"It wasn't for you anyway, smarty pants," Bender retorted. "It's for the princess."

Claire felt he'd just sent her a dozen roses; Alex was nonplussed. "Let's go on the Zipper now," he transitioned smoothly, grabbing Bender's empty hand and dropping his foam airplane in the process. Brian bent to pick it up.

Bender thrust the stuffed animal at her. "Here; maybe you can use it as a dishrag or something."

Its fur was soft and velvety, the kind that left discolored tracks where fingers had just caressed the fabric. The shiny nose perched perkily above a crooked, frowning mouth, and the set of eyes above it were dark and deeply embedded, giving the bear a brooding aspect. Claire thought it looked like a pink, fluffy Bender.

"John, this is so sweet of you."

He shrugged. "They didn't have anything good, so I figured I might as well not totally waste my points. It could probably work as a hat stand, or a foot rest..."

"No, I really like it." She kissed his cheek impulsively; he fought against a sheepish grin and failed.

"Can we go now?" Alex demanded, his scowl remarkably similar to his older brother's.

"Hold your horses, we're going. You kids be safe." Bender gave Brian and Claire a prompt salute before swaggering off, Alex and his carnival booty in tow.

Brian wrung his hands. "So, uh, what do you wanna do now?"

"I don't know," Claire murmured. She had to savor the moment while it lasted. She gave the teddy bear a squeeze. She knew that this simple gesture shouldn't enchant her, but she understood why it did; within the vortex of a month, Claire had fallen in love with the rebellious, unpredictable, hair-flicking John Bender.

"Claire?"

She looked up, and a delighted smile lit across her face. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

(Space)

"Let's go on that one again!"

"No."

"Come on Johnny, please?" Alex begged, hopping from foot to foot. "I'll let you have the mattress tonight."

"As tempting as the offer is, I think I'll take the love seat over that thing," Bender said firmly, pointing at the Zipper. His stomach thought it was still rolling around in the compartment, except this time there were no bars to hold anything back. "Maybe Brian will ride it with you."

"He wouldn't even go on the Tilt-a-Whirl," Alex complained. "He kept talking about something inside his ear."

"He was probably just joking around." Bender highly doubted it, but there was no way he was getting on that ride again, at least not while he was on a date. The last thing he needed was for Claire to watch him hurl. "Come on, let's go find the others."

"Are all the people we came with your friends?" Alex asked, trudging after Bender.

"You could say that."

"Is Claire your friend?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"She's really nice…and pretty," Alex confessed bashfully.

Bender gave him a playful shove. "I think you need your eyes checked, bud."

But Bender did have to admit, Claire was cute. Maybe she wasn't classically "pretty," with her bright red hair and pale skin, but she had a nice figure, and a warm smile, and Bender liked her hair. And once you got past the stuck up bitch front she was really sweet. When she'd come to pick him up that evening he'd expected her to chuckle or make some kind of awkward compliment like, "Your house isn't _that_ bad." But she'd done neither. He was slowly beginning to realize that there was more to this girl than makeup, designer clothes, and Daddy's credit card; she was caring, silly, and vulnerable, and he liked being around her a heck of a lot more than was good for him. But he didn't like her _too_ much or anything; she was just, you know, sort of important to him. He wasn't doodling "Claire Bender" in the margins of his textbook, like someone else he knew.

Claire Bender...That had a nice ring to it.

Shit.

"There they are!" Alex shouted suddenly, tugging at the end of Bender's shirt. Bender followed his brother's gaze. Claire and Brian stood in front of a Snow Cone stand; Andy and Allison were with them. Claire spotted Bender and waved, a smile so genuine breaking out across her face that he couldn't help but smile back. The smile was short-lived; a tall blond boy in khaki pants and a baby blue polo turned around and handed Claire a snow cone.

Bender's jaw tightened. What was _he_ doing here?

Bender had come to the conclusion last night that Zach was a total douche. After Zach had busted in on them and simpered, "Oh, am I interrupting something?", Claire had straightened her skirt and tremulously assured him that he wasn't interrupting anything at all. Zach took this as an invitation to stand around and shoot the bull with Claire about "old times." Bender provided what he thought was a witty commentary, but the barbed looks Claire shot his way suggested that she felt differently. Eventually Zach ran out of nostalgia and revealed that the reason he had come upstairs was for a photo album, which struck Bender as highly suspicious. Either way, Bender was glad once Zach had his album and was out the door. The romantic mood may have been shot to hell by that point, but at least he was alone with Claire.

And he _had _been alone with Claire tonight (well, sort of; the rest of the group didn't count) until Zach butted his big preppy head in. Bender tried not to scowl and pushed his way over to them.

"Zach..." The name left a bad taste in Bender's mouth. "Fancy meeting you here."

He spread out his arms like it was just the craziest coincidence. "I know right? I was here with my friend Danny and he started chatting up some blonde and disappeared. I was looking for him when I ran into Claire."

Bender nodded understandingly. "Was the country club closed tonight?"

"So, Alex, was the Zipper all you hoped it would be?" Claire interrupted congenially.

"It was excellent," Alex gushed. "I want to go again!"

"You weren't scared?" Brian queried.

"Nope. It's my favorite ride. I always go on it."

Brian's face fell. "Oh."

Claire took a bite of chipped ice. "What do you guys want to go on next?"

"We should ride bumper cars," Allison suggested. "They're the only kind of cars I can legally drive."

"Yeah, but that doesn't stop you," Andy remarked. Allison smiled impishly.

"I'd like to see Allison run someone over with a bumper car," Bender said. "How about you, Cherry?"

He could read the struggle in Claire's strained smile. Bumper cars? Totally unsophisticated. What if Rich Bitch One saw her and told Rich Bitch Two? And what would Zach think if she agreed to something so crass and immature?

"Sure," she consented at last, her voice more relaxed than Bender had expected. She turned to Zach. "Would you like to come with us?"

Bender felt like dropping some of that chipped ice down the back of her shirt to bring her to her senses. "He's looking for his date, Claire, remember?"

Zach's face reddened. "Date? No, no, Danny's a man."

Bender blinked. "I'm well aware of that."

"Yeah, man, why don't you join us?" Andy pressed. "We haven't hung out in ages."

"I don't know…" Zach's eyes scanned the crowd. "Danny –"

"Danny ditched you, you might as well ditch him," Claire reasoned. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"All right," he conceded, one corner of his mouth twisting upward reluctantly.

Andy nodded decisively. "Cool. Let's go!"

"But I don't wanna ride bumper cars!" Alex moaned, stomping alongside his brother. "Brian already made me! Can't we go on the Zipper again?"

Bender tore his eyes away from Claire and Zach, who were laughing at some inside joke. "Tough luck kid. No one wants to ride that again."

"Brian hasn't gone on it yet," Alex reminded him.

"Yeah, but Brian doesn't want to."

"Wait." Brian laid a hand on his chest. "I never said I didn't want to."

"You weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity either, Brian."

"But I never said I didn't want to go."

Bender drew in a sharp breath. "Do you or do you not want to go?"

Brian hesitated. "Well…you guys said it wasn't that bad, right?"

"Yep, it's not scary at all!" Alex grabbed him by the arm and dragged him in the direction of the Zipper. "Just you wait, you're gonna love it!" He was still babbling when they rounded the corner.

"Is the Zipper that thing with those little cages that spin around?" Zach moved his arm in a spinning motion for emphasis; Claire nodded. "Man. I don't think you could pay me to get on there."

"And it would be such an enticing offer," Bender annunciated slowly, "seeing as money is something that you are so desperately in need of, right Zach?"

"Money is something we're all in need of, John," Zach rejoined, fixing Bender with a glassy stare. "I'm sure you're aware of that."

"What led to that assumption?"

Claire, who was walking between them, linked her arm through Bender's. "Let's not talk about economy. My dad must have spent at least two hours complaining about the stock market this morning."

"Mine too." Andy shook his head. "What's worse is he thinks I'm going to lose my scholarship due to 'the crowd I've been hanging around with lately.'"

"For what university?" Zach inquired.

"Shermer U."

"So you'll be close to home."

Andy shared a quiet look with Allison. "Yep."

"There are times when I wish Yale was closer to Shermer," Zach confessed. "It's hard being away from the people who are always at the front of my mind."

"You're here now," Claire reminded him, "and that's all that – Ow!"

"There was a moth on your head," Bender explained innocently.

(Space)

"So I said, 'But what would happen if Eifel off the Eifel tower?'"

Claire burst into a fit of giggles; Andy's shoulders shook with laughter. Allison just stared. Bender was relieved that he wasn't the only one who failed to see any humor.

He glanced at his watch; either it was broken, or the past six minutes had crawled by at a snail's pace. Zach's lengthy memoir of his semester in Paris hadn't done anything to help pass the time. And of course Claire had to encourage him by burbling about how much she "adored Paris." Had he gone to the Louvre? Notre Dame? Montmarte? The Eifel Tower? Yes, yes he had; he even had the most tickling gag to share with them!

Bender would rather watch an ape throw shit.

"So, did you get to do any French kissing?" Andy insinuated once the storm of amusement had passed.

"No, not this time."

Bender's lip curled in disgust. "You went to France and you didn't even pick up any babes?"

"Nope."

A trip to Europe was totally wasted on this noodle. "There wasn't anyone you were remotely interested in?"

He glanced at Claire. "Not in Europe, at least."

Bender's pulse quickened. "That explains why you were so eager to reunite with Danny."

Zach's smile disappeared. He opened his mouth to say something, when Claire butted in. "Oh look, the line's moving!" She grabbed Bender by the arm and dragged him forward.

"Cut it out," she hissed.

"Give me some scissors."

"That's not funny."

"It's better than Eifelling off the Eifel tower," he retorted.

"You're being a jerk."

"I'm being myself."

"John, he's one of my best friends. Can't you just _try_ to get along with him?"

Bender ran a hand through his hair, fighting against the pleading tone in her voice and ultimately failing. "Fine," he surrendered, teeth gritted, "but don't think I'm gonna kiss ass to every one of your little Ivy League friends."

"I'd have to be insane to think that," she assured him.

"Then you're halfway there, right?"

"Only because you're driving me crazy," she shot back.

He grinned. "They say I'm an excellent driver."

"You're a bad driver."

"And being bad feels so good, doesn't it, Cherry?"

She gulped for a response. Bender suddenly had the urge to kiss her, and he would have, had Zach not chimed in with, "What are you two whispering about?"

"Nothing," Claire answered mechanically.

"None of your business is more like it," Bender muttered; Claire must not have heard him, or he was sure he would have gotten some sort of rebuke.

"Hey Clark!"

Bender turned to look at Andrew. The jock mouthed the word "shit" just as a balding man in sweats appeared at his side.

"Why weren't you at practice today?" baldy demanded, folding his arms across his expansive midsection.

"I had to help a friend with a science project," Andrew explained; Allison bit a fingernail guiltily.

"Next time tell that friend to call someone else!" baldy blustered, moving forward with the line. "You can't afford to miss a practice this late in the season."

"It's the only practice I've missed this season, Coach."

"And it better be the last!"

They were at the front of the line. "Look, Coach, I'm gonna have to talk to you about this tomorrow, okay?"

"Don't go helping anyone with an English report," Coach grumbled. "I expect you to be there."

The carnival worker gave the group the once over. "Are all six of you together?"

"Five," Claire corrected.

"I'm sorry, but there's only two cars available. If you want to couple up I can let four of you in."

"Doesn't that beat all!" Coach exclaimed, his beady eyes dancing with glee. "You four go through, and we'll continue our conversation over here, won't we, Clark?"

Andy winced.

"We could wait in line again," Allison suggested.

Andy shook his head. "Don't go through all that trouble. Go have fun." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and shuffled off with Coach.

"So," Claire said as soon as they'd entered the pavilion, "how should we do this?"

"Do what?" Allison asked blankly.

"Pair off."

Bender felt a slight pinch of annoyance. Wasn't the answer obvious? He opened his mouth to voice his opinion when Zach butted in.

"John could go with Allison, and I could go with you."

"I guess that could work…" Claire looked to Bender uneasily. "Is that all right with you, John?"

The pinch tightened. Bender didn't understand why he was so pissed off. So what if Claire would rather ride a bumper car with a guy who just happened to be a rich, weasly bastard who'd known her for seventeen years? He shrugged stiffly. "No skin off my ass."

Zach beamed. "Good man, John." He practically skipped over to an empty red car, Claire following with less enthusiasm.

"I'm driving," Allison piped before Bender could say anything.

He climbed into the passenger's seat apathetically and glanced over at Claire. She was behind the wheel, and Zach was beside her, chatting away. He had the sudden impulse to race over, throw Zach out of the car and say, "I changed my mind." He'd almost decided to do it when Allison slammed on the gas and they shot forward, instantly ramming into a wall.

"And they won't let you loose on the road?"

"Shut-up," Allison grumbled, smiling. Bender gave the wall a hardy push and they were back on the open range, ready to roam free with all of the other miniature metallic beasts. Unfortunately they were the defective member of the pack; the only thing Allison seemed to be able to do was turn in a tight circle.

"Scoot over," Bender chortled. "You're going to get us both killed."

"Death by bumper car," Allison remarked dreamily as they switched positions, both equally stiff and protective. "I'm not that bad."

"We haven't even bumped anything yet," Bender said bluntly as he settled into the driver's seat.

"We bumped into a wall."

"I'm talking non-stationary, Chipmunk." Allison giggled goofily at the nickname. The positive feedback pumped Bender's spirits, and he was almost having a good time again when he spotted Zach's arm across the back of Claire's seat.

Bender was aware that Claire's shoulder and Claire's seat were two different things. But the leap from shoulder to seat was too close, and that was why he put his foot to the petal and crashed into the back of their car.

Zach drew his arm back, and both turned around to give Bender an irritable glance. He grinned and waved coyly.

It wasn't the last time Bender ran into them. Once he hit them just because his dislike for Zach was especially poignant; the next few times were to get on Claire's nerves; and when Claire was paying more attention to her passenger than to where she was going, Bender gave her a wakeup jolt laden with his best intentions.

"You get road rage," Allison observed knowingly. Bender didn't respond; he was too busy banging into the side of Claire's car.

"Stop it, John!" Claire snapped, her forehead creased.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Bumping into me."

"They're called bumper cars for a reason, Cherry."

She made a face and turned back around. Bender decided to layoff for a while – after all, he had promised to be nice. He tried to give them space and ignore whatever they were doing, and talking about. Maybe they were talking about Paris. Claire liked Paris; she'd gone to Paris. When he'd flipped through her photo album, he'd come across a picture of her standing in front of the Eifel tower with mommy and daddy. And Bender? Well…he'd gone to Paris, Missouri once, if that counted.

BANG. John and Allison bounced in their seats. He looked back; Claire smiled devilishly, their bumpers kissing.

It was the sweetest thing she could have done.

(Space)

"I think you gave me a neck injury," Claire grumbled, massaging the aforesaid ligament as they stepped off the platform. Andy, sin-coach, was waiting for them. Allison slid her hand into his pocket and kept it there.

Bender grinned. "You'll survive."

"If it's really bothering you, you could come and soak in our hot tub once you get home," Zach offered, all selflessness.

This guy had a hot tub? It shouldn't have been surprising – he was rolling in cash, but still…A hot tub? Bender could just see Claire with a glass of champagne in her hand, soaking under the stars and listening to Zach babble on about politics and Europe.

Bender decided that he wanted to leave.

"As much as Cherry would love to accept your offer, it is a school night and she does have to be in bed on time," he admitted sadly.

"That's not true, I can go to bed whenever I want," Claire objected.

Bender's brow rose condescendingly. "We wouldn't want you to be grumpy tomorrow and throw a temper tantrum now would we, princess?" Claire rolled her eyes but didn't respond.

Zach smiled faintly. "I keep forgetting you kids aren't on summer vacation yet."

"It's a common symptom of old age. First the memory goes, then the motor skills, and then the – well, you know." He made a suggestive gesture. Claire's jaw dropped; Bender pretended not to notice. "But we should head on out, it's past my brother's bedtime."

Andy checked his watch. "It's only 8:30."

"Yeah, well, he's a kid, and he needs twelve hours of sleep and ten glasses of water a day and all that bullshit." He reached out to take Claire's hand and stopped himself just in time. "Come on; let's go find dork face and the brat."

She laughed. "That sounds like a twisted version of _Beauty & the Beast_."

"So does the _Princess & the Criminal._"

She didn't disagree.

(Space)

"He threw up on my airplane." Alex lifted the evidence for all to see, his outstretched arm calling for justice. Claire turned her head away and whispered "Oh God;" Andy mumbled, "That's nasty, man;" Zach scratched his head helplessly and Allison stuck her tongue out in revulsion.

"I see we had carrots for dinner," Bender observed. "Were they as delicious the second time around?"

Brian's knees wobbled precariously and he groaned, toppling into Bender, who threw an arm around his shoulders for support.

"I'm all right," Brian said weakly, making a wasted effort to lift his head. "It's just…I have some minor inner ear problems…If I sit for a while…"

"No, you need to get home and lie down," Claire insisted with a grimace.

"I don't want to make everyone leave…"

"We were about to go anyway; it's Alex's bedtime."

The child's eyes narrowed. "But I don't have a –"

"Let's blow this popsicle stand before Brian blows dessert," Bender intercepted smoothly. "Shall we alight to your chariot, princess?"

She began to rummage through her purse; the furry pink head of the teddy bear Bender had given her leered out at them. "I suppose so. It was nice seeing you, Zach. I hope you can find your friend."

"He's around here somewhere." His soft eyes betrayed the smile spread across his face. "Do you think you'll need a ride to school tomorrow?"

"No, I can drive myself now." She jingled her newly-found keys for proof.

"I keep expecting it to be like old times, I guess. I used to drive you around everywhere."

"Yeah, well, things change," she said awkwardly, averting her eyes.

Damn right, things changed.

Andy gave Zach a manly pat on the back. "It was nice seeing you, man. Give me a call and maybe we can get the guys together and play lacrosse while you're still in town."

"Will do. It was nice meeting you, Allison." She squeaked an assent.

"Good-night Zach," Claire said absentmindedly, backing toward the exit as the others began to walk away. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Night. Drive safe!" He took a step toward her and his arms twitched, as if he intended to embrace her but thought better of it. "And John, I…" His congeniality flickered. "I guess we'll be seeing more of each other."

Bender, who was already heading toward the exit, glanced over his shoulder. "Not if I can help it."

(Space)

"John, stop it."

"Why?"

"Your brother is in the car."

"He's asleep." It was true; Bender could hear the faint of buzz of Alex's snoring over the humming engine. He pressed his lips to her neck one last time and leaned back in his seat.

They were parked outside the Bender residence, their last stop on the route home. As eager as Bender had been to leave, he was reluctant to get out of the car. It was much more appealing to sit with Claire, badger her, kiss her, and do it all over again.

"So," he began, just to buy time, "was the carnival all you hoped it would be, princess?"

She laughed. "Yeah; I had a good time. I'm surprised we ran into Zach."

Bender felt like he'd swallowed a steel brick. "Wish it would have been with the car," he mumbled.

"John!"

"I'm joking," he lied. "What was old Yale-Yup doing there anyway? He impressed me as more of the opera-going, golfing type."

"Zach doesn't play golf."

"Polo then."

"He's not like all the other preppy guys at school, John. If you got to know him, you'd probably like him."

He propped his foot on the dashboard and grunted.

They were silent. Bender wondered why it didn't bother him to sit in this gleaming SUV with a classy girl in front of his travesty of a house. Maybe it was because she could only see the outside, the tip of the iceberg. She knew about the garbage, and the trash bag covering the window, but she couldn't see the hole in the wall, or the mound of unwashed dishes, or the stained carpets. She'd never know the extent of the damage.

Bender felt the seat recoil beneath him. Claire paused as he glanced up and continued to crawl over to him. She settled on the edge of his lap, her eyes wet, deep, and very real. He felt a desperate urge to say something.

"Am I your booster seat?"

She kissed him in response, slow and experimental. His foot slid from the dashboard absently. When she pulled away a simmer had replaced the wet gleam in her eyes, and she smiled. There was something distinct in Claire's kisses that separated them from his experiences with other girls. He'd always viewed kissing as the means to an end. He was rough with other girls, impatient, dissatisfied. But with Claire, it was like she was making a whispered confession and if Bender didn't listen carefully he would miss the most important part.

"My brother is in the backseat," he said stupidly, as if he needed some sort of defense from the trembling atmosphere inside the vehicle.

"He's asleep."

He was paralyzed. She ran a finger along his cheek, stopping at his earlobe. She fiddled with the diamond stud.

"When I gave it to you, I didn't think you'd wear it."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. The aftertaste of the kiss turned sour in his mouth. "Did you think I'd sell it?"

"No…I don't know. I didn't think you'd really want it."

His lips opened in a cautious smile. "I didn't think you'd want a hot pink teddy bear."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and chuckled. "Neither did I."

Bender kissed her again so he wouldn't be completely disgusted with himself. Then he straightened in his seat and said, "I have to go inside."

She nodded.

"I'll see you in Hell School tomorrow, Cherry."

"Wait."

He held the door halfway open. "What?"

"Are you going to the prom planning meeting tomorrow morning?"

He snorted. "Yeah, and then I'm going camping with the Boy Scout troop."

"You mean you aren't?"

"Of course not; why would I?"

Her lips stiffened. "Well I _am_ a queen candidate, and tomorrow they're going over the inaugural procedures…"

"Wait a second." He shut the door, his brow furrowed. "Why would I need to know about inaugural procedures?"

"John…" Her voice was bruised. "Aren't you going to be my escort?"

TBC…


	9. Say What?

**A/N**: Yes, it's true, I'm alive! And I am well. Surgery went great. Life has just been extra insane. Senior year of high school, freshman year of college - yikes. But this story has been on my mind like the ghost of a dear friend. And I intend to resurrect it. This snippet isn't as polished as I would like, but I had to get something out there so y'all know I'm still walking the earth. Expect more in the future. Not as soon as I would like, due to massive amounts of homework (ugh), but sooner than this update lol.

Thanks for the feedback and support!

**Chapter 8.5**

**Say What?**

The car was silent. Bender could feel Claire's eyes upon him, waiting, expectant.

"Fuck no!" he burst out.

He could practically hear her enthusiasm deflate like a slashed balloon. "Why not?"

"Because I don't do prom."

"Why not?"

He drew in a steadying breath. "Because that's just not my scene."

"That concert wasn't my scene either, but I went anyway," she reminded him.

Her argument was frustratingly logical. "Yeah, well, concerts are fun; prom sucks balls."

"How do you know? You've never been before."

"I've never been to prison before, and I'm pretty confident in saying it's no cake walk."

"That's different!"

"Whatever. End of discussion. Get up Alex, time to go inside."

"But you can't just say no like that!" she protested.

"Watch me."

He didn't hear her reply; he was too busy slamming the door in her astounded face.


End file.
